We all have the potential to fall in love a thousand times in our lifetime. It’s easy.
But there are certain people you love who do something else; they define how you classify what love is supposed to feel like. These are the most important people in your life, and you’ll meet maybe four or five of these people over the span of 80 years. But there’s still one more tier to all this; there is always one person you love who becomes that definition. It usually happens retrospectively, but it always happens eventually. This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people, even if some of those qualities are self-destructive and unreasonable.
The person who defines your understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else, and they’re often just the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really want to love someone. But that person still wins. They win, and you lose. Because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else.
“You’ll get over it…’ It’s the cliches that cause the trouble. To lose someone you love is to alter your life forever. You don’t get over it because ‘it’ is the person you loved. The pain stops, there are new people, but the gap never closes. How could it? The articulateness of someone who mattered enough to grieve over is not made anodyne by death. This hole in my heart is in the shape of you and no one else can fit it. Why would I want them to?”—Written on the Body by Jeanette Winterson (via thechocolatebrigade)
So this is what it feels like when you have no one but yourself. You talk to yourself, you cry to yourself. And everyday is the same, you wake up wishing you didn’t have to, you keep it all inside until the end of the day, when you’re all by yourself, when you’re waiting for that moment you’d fall asleep, that’s when it all resurface and drown you in your flood of emotions. Sometimes I just miss someone to share things with, not just anyone, but someone who truly care, someone who’ll comfort me and stay up on the phone just to hear me cry.
“I put my head in my hands and cried. This ugliness was my doing. Another failed relationship, another hurt human being. When was I going to stop? I pulled my knuckles along the rough brick. There’s always an excuse, a good reason for behaving as we do. I couldn’t think of a good reason.”—Written on the Body by Jeanette Winterson (via thechocolatebrigade)
I just don’t understand, why do the people I thought would/should understand me are the ones who actually disappoint me the most. Who am I suppose to talk to then? Cause I’m just so tired of crying myself to sleep. I just don’t understand.
"The things we said and did have left permanent scars. Obsessed depressed at the same time"
“I wonder which is preferable — to walk around all your life swollen up with your secrets until you burst from the pressure of them, or to have them sucked out of you, every paragraph, every sentence, every word for them, so at the end you’re depleted of all that was once as precious to you as hoarded gold, as close to you as your skin — everything that was of the deepest importance to you, everything that made you cringe and wish to conceal, everything that belonged to you alone — and must spend the rest of your days like an empty sack flapping in the wind, an empty sack branded with a bright fluorescent label so that everyone will know what sort of secrets used to be inside you?”—Margaret Atwood (via thechocolatebrigade)