I’ve had mine, you’ve had yours. We both know, we know. They won’t get you like I will, My only wish is I die real, Cause that truth hurts and those lies heal And you can’t sleep thinking that he lies still.
I often find myself creeping back to the past and dwell myself in the pool of despair. So heart wrenching yet so comfortable. I guess it’s easier to live in the past, to grasp onto what was real rather than living in the present and having the uncertainty of the future.
“We start off with high hopes, then we bottle it. We realize that we’re all going to die, without really finding out the big answers. We develop all those long-winded ideas which just interpret the reality of our lives in different ways, without really extending our body of worthwhile knowledge, about the big things, the real things. Basically, we live a short disappointing life; and then we die. We fill up our lives with shite, things like careers and relationships to delude ourselves that it isn’t all totally pointless.”—Trainspotting by Irvine Welsh (via thechocolatebrigade)
“If you lie to your husband - even about something so banal as how much you drink - each lie is a brick in a wall going up between you, and when he tells you he loves you, it’s deflected away.”—Lit: A Memoir by Mary Karr (via thechocolatebrigade)