I Lost Parts Of Myself Trying To Find My Place In You
I tried to fix myself, even parts that didn’t seem broken. You still didn’t notice. You still didn’t care enough.
I tried to fix myself, even parts that didn’t seem broken. You still didn’t notice. You still didn’t care enough.
He made it a habit to break my heart, and I chose to see it as a privilege for my heart to be shattered by the one boy who had always owned it.
I thought love was about being able to endure the pain, to cling onto someone who pushes you away, to tear yourself apart in hopes that your jagged pieces would fill his aching gaps.
It’s not always wrong to be selfish, and now I am asking you to be just that. Do it for yourself, not for someone else.
Believe me, even if they don’t believe you, and even if there are times when even you don’t believe in yourself, I believe in you.
Stop chasing after a boy who just can’t see your worth.
You can’t keep asking him where it all went wrong, or what you did that sent him away. You have to understand that it isn’t always your fault.
As much as possible, I try to look at mental illness as just that – an illness. Not a personality trait. Not a definitive factor. But a health issue that needs to be addressed. A problem that ought to be solved.
I was afraid. I was afraid of reading into my own thoughts. It felt to me as if writing about anything meant having to face what I was dealing with first.
Dealing with mental illness is not as easy as counting from one to ten. Acceptance is hard; it probably is the hardest step of all.