Trapped In Wonderland

I want to believe that when we met we were just right for each other at that point in time. If we'd met sooner, we never would have worked out.  If we'd met later, we never would have felt that pull toward each other. 

The thing most heartbreaking about it all is falling in love again. It's insanity wanting to repeat the process, taking chances and trying all over again despite the failures and pain, now that, that has to be heartbreaking. 

Time is defined as an indefinite continued progress of existence and events of the past, present, and future regarded as whole. How wonderfully ambiguous is that? 

When someone asks me how I loved you.

I  used to think oceans could heal me; funny, how I thought you could as well. 

Some of my fondest memories were ones made with you. 

  A promise can be poison. 

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.  I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. 

Of  all the things you've left behind, I wonder how many slipped away as effortlessly as clothes slip off the body of a lover you love quite comfortably. 

“So,” he smiled, “tell me yours.”  “My what?” She replied.  “You know, your love story, tell me about the guy who made you obsessed with the idea that you’re better off alone.” 

I'd been told I would only get hurt in the end. I'm not an idiot - I'd seen it coming, too. 

The different ways we deal with pain are fathomless and boundless. 

You thought you were in love back then, didn’t you? You thought it was you and him against the rest, convinced that no one could stop you. 

I don't know why I'm sending you this because I know you won't reply. To be honest, I have no idea if you even get my texts, but I'm doing it anyway because I'm the type of person to let people know that they're on my mind. 

A favorite saying of my mother is "we keep a part of every single person we meet". This way we can never forget anyone, not completely. A part of them always stays with us.  

I know we’re over. I know that the day will come when your face will fade from my memory, your fingers will stop touching my hips, and your lips will lift off of my neck and I will forget I ever wanted you to be mine. 

  Every morning I awaken in hopes of finding you under the covers, perhaps on the other side of the bed but our reality keeps us miles away. I can't help but wonder what coffee tastes like on your lips, if you'd like them silky smooth, or bitterly burnt. Every inch of the day closes in on me, keeping you a constant in my thoughts. 

I don’t know if I am becoming better, focussing on what’s important in life, or just trying to distract myself from loving you more, I mean I have no idea. 

Over the years, I scattered secrets and parts of me like seeds and waited for them to take root. It wasn't something I did on purpose. It was only when months had passed that I noticed a dozen new flowers fighting their way through the concrete, and I failed to realise they were all mine. 

Your presence was the only constant I’d ever had in life and you know how it goes when we take things for granted. I’d never say I did, because there was never a time when I was not grateful for you. Never a time that I was not happy to have you on my side.