It’s no fun to be loved from both sides. When every decision will break someone’s heart. I understand now why we crawl into caves and never want to come out. Why we want to hide until it’s over.
I can remember being miserable, undesired, transparent. I gave up after trying again and again. I could only throw myself into the wall until I became a bloody pulp. And so I collapsed in a pile, bleeding and wounded and weak and unable to go on. The thing is, more than anything, I had wished to find the strength to throw myself one more time. But I didn’t. That was it. I was burned out.
And I carried my mess away even though it killed me. I forced myself to be happy, to find happiness. Happiness was there waiting for me. I didn’t even need to look. I was saved, and I had saved myself.
But it’s no fun to be loved from both sides.
It’s no fun to be asked hard questions that you thought were distant memories.
Would I ever go back? The odds are against it. But the decision is more than simple odds and figures and pros and cons. It is more than “should do” and “have done.” It’s my heart I’m playing with here, that I’m twisting in a sweaty shaking palm.
It’s no fun to be loved from both sides
I didn’t proof read this, sorry