I only write you when I feel empty. I don’t miss you when I lie down at night. You make me feel special when I haven’t felt special for a long time. That doesn’t count as love.
You’re nothing to me.
And it’s perfect.
12 months of bad vibes.
I have been the most naive I have ever been. I fell for promises I should have never tied myself to and made promises I had no business making.
“2013 is gonna make a woman out of me.”
My heart has been broken more times this year than its ever been, and I’m to blame. For recklessly loving. For recklessly drinking. For recklessly hoping.
But still there is restoration.
Every second is a chance to turn it all around.