shrouded-tears

The key to human nature is conflict. So much so that you forget who you are, what you want, why you’re there. And in the end, all that’s left is you and you alone. A name, a being – two hands two feet standing in space. There are those who chase the light, wind in their hair, laughter chiming like bells, radiant as the sun. They walk on a spring breeze untouchable by those who hide in their shadow, craving the same brilliance but never moving forward. They cannot see the light. For they cannot see at all.

This is not a carnival. We are not children running around looking to be entertained. Where is human decency?

In the aftermath of my first-ever relationship, I’m left with a sense of emptiness that is at once familiar and unprecedented. I miss him. I think. I can’t imagine how I should begin to reconcile my thoughts. Love probably isn’t real. I think. Or perhaps he simply isn’t the one I need. Perhaps what I was (am) looking for was (is) not a partner but a savior. And the three months we spent together gave form and false hope to a fantasy that seemed nigh-impossible. If I truly loved him, I would grieve more. Three days in, I no longer need to call him my boyfriend. And yet. I miss his touch, his voice saying “Girlfriend. I love you.” I miss his weight and his body pressed so close to mine that for a while, I could almost convince myself that that’s all I needed. Because in that moment, I felt wanted. What is this? I still need him to pet me on the head, to hug me, to kiss me, and to tell me that he loves me. But I don’t need him as a partner anymore. What is this? Perhaps I