Your worth is what you allow it to be.

The truth is: I was lost in him. I had gone from losing one of the most important people in my life and then losing someone I loved a month later. I wrapped myself in people, in lust, in the idea of love. I met him and I met a gentlemen, and when I found out who he truly was, I was still in love with the gentleman and justified all of his actions.

When you complete yourself is when you can complete someone else.

I don’t write about you. I describe you. I explain you.

You want to know what I loved about him? Everything. From a freckle on his ass down to his undying selfish need to always be right.

I don’t want content. I want slight fear. Anxiety. I want a longing devotion for a twist of absence. The feeling of complete isn’t quite pleasing.

Some people you’re not meant to get over.

Old-fashioned dating still exists. You’re either dating the wrong people or you are the problem.

I stopped writing in a way they would understand because it wasn’t for them or even him. It was for I to understand, for I to make sense, and for I to let go of it.