When I have good days, I forget about how it is even possible for me to have bad days. But it's always in the back of my mind. It sticks. It scars. It shall stay until I don't need it anymore. I feel like I don't need it... but that's just a lie I like to tell myself, I suppose.
My lovely Bella makes my heart ache to the point where I think it might just spoil. Fall out the top. Spill over the edges. Simply burst.
Honestly, I don't miss you. And you're wrong, I don't care that you don't read this. This is for me. A place for me to write to myself when I can't deal with anything any other way. That is all. It's the reason I don't advertise it everywhere for anyone to see... I want it to be mine. Of course I have my journals though. The journal I hide in that special spot that is full of the real, important secrets and ideas and dreams I want to keep to myself and only myself. That one doesn't get opened often. But when it does... I am scared and excited and anxious all at once.
Just remember... write for yourself and not for anyone else. That might just be the best advice I have to give.
We won't hold hands and run through fields together. You won't tell me I'm beautiful and let me take lovely, sunshine photographs of your clear green eyes. I realize that now. My feelings are bittersweet. I can still imagine myself doing these things with you, yet know that you are all wrong for it. And for me.
I miss having to pretend. I miss not having to pretend. What is this middle ground I am in? I don't think it has a name. I'm along the edge of both, having to choose. But why would I choose to pretend? I'll embrace this, full on, head first, as fast as I can. I won't hold back. Just watch. This is the beginning of a new era.
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