I dreamt that someone asked me if I was over it since, somehow, I seemed like I was.
I said no, and everyone heard it. Even you heard it–but hey, I wasn’t done talking.
I said no, I wasn’t over it.
But it’s not like anything, or anyone, is trying to stop me anyway. So to be frank, I’m getting there.
Do not be ashamed that you did not end it with the pride of a lioness. It’s okay that he left you, and you clung on to him. You may have broken some fingernails from trying desperately to hold on, but don’t worry. Instead, make sure to leave claw marks on his back, chest, thighs, and arms, anything you can grab on to until you finally let him go – so he will never ever ever be able to forget you. So what if you didn’t get to hear the satisfying powerful click-clacking of your high heels against the pavement had you left him first? There is nothing wrong with dragging yourself away from him, the dead weight of your body tempting you to stop. Pathetic? Maybe. But what matters is, you kept on moving, you kept on crawling, until you were far enough to stand tall again.
Grabbed from Van Gogh is Bipolar’s Facebook status.
UPCLAS photos, Wave 1: Balloons