Glass pieces

“And I began to let him go. Hour by hour. Days into months. It was a physical sensation, like letting out the string of a kite. Except that the string was coming from my center.” — Augusten Burroughs, You Better Not Cry.

I got better when I stopped expecting. I got better when we made future plans and I started to believe it might not happen and am okay with that. I got better when I stopped crying about what differs from the past and chose live in the present. I got better when I started to love unconditionally when things might not go the ideal way. I got better when I stopped thinking about the end I want. I got better when I started to believe we might meet new people. I got better when I stopped trying to grasp at our perfections and look at how incompatible we are. I got better when I know there is still love.

Things will not be the same in a year and I’m okay with that.

Not being an open book suffocates me to no end but I found solace in not trying to explain myself and not putting every little thing out.

I wanted to be a piece of glass
then I realize that glass isn’t safe.
It’s a fragile piece, and I allowed so many people to hold me.
Naturally, it broke.
And I let the pieces cut

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