You have become a ghost, an image of the past. The only power you have left in my life are the scarring memories you left behind me: The midnight Skype calls, the goodnight messages, the quirky rants, the dreams we shared. But they’re all just dents scratches that cannot be painted over. You gave me some of the best times of my life and I will always be grateful for that. I will always cherish the quietness we shared, the beautiful silences of realisation. You sparked the realisations of all the potentials in life. The potential of a happy life, filled with blissful escapes, exciting adventures, and moments of pure love. All these moments, these small aspects of my life were shaping up alongside you, alongside us. And for once in a long time, I was incredibly happy. I spent every day with a plan; I was productive, thinking it was all going to work out. Then when night came, I was able to spend countless hours talking to you, discovering more and more about you.
But then came the end of us. Ever since you left, I’ve been trying my absolute hardest to fix everything about myself, from the oldest scars to the freshest wounds.
this seems very loving, in a very strange way