reading the past.

my own words make me cry, it was a different me, a more innocent me and as much as i hated that place in time, i yearn to go back and feel how it felt. i was making all the wrong decisions, i was still running, three years and counting, but i was honest and ripped open- i was brave and resilient. and indifferent (well, ive always been indifferent) and i would drown the feelings that came in shots and lines and hate myself in the morning, for too long a stage of life. i hurt people, unintentionally, and made myself believe it was the only way to move on, to keep going. i was careless- carefree, yet sometimes i didnt even know me. i surpassed the rock bottom that id known before, id kept on keeping on, always closing doors. id give myself things to look forward to, because when your young you can always find something to look forward to. this will be my 24th year, yet i double that in feelings and exhaustion and pain. my limbs are tight and my head is loose and everything is taking its toll. ive found love worth holding on to, because i could never love more, though i believe we have to try too hard sometimes.. to keep from killing ourselves- each other. we are like bombs, exploding, never knowing when- too afraid we may lose each other over carelessness or misunderstanding and we declare love like we make it, hard and erratically. ive put everything on the line- though ive always had an escape plan, because even i know that forever is promised to no one.

and there is no going back.