from someone who is now the biggest stranger I’ve ever known.
Love letters that still knock my fucking socks off…that still require tissues…that still smell like fall.
Love letters that will never meet a match.
Love letters that couldn’t hold their weight.
Love letters full of empty promises.
I still wonder if she knows how far she dug just to break me.
There’s something about knowing that you will never be the same again that will somehow let you start over.
I have no choice but to be new.
Hello, Self. Pleased to make your broken acquaintance. Maybe this time we’ll survive.
What’s Left Of Me