Life sucks. And people leave. You die a little more
inside. And you try a little harder next time. But you know, somewhere in the
bottom of your heart, you just know. That this, too, shall come to an end
someday. And you feel stubborn. More dejected. You become a little more unmanageable.
You begin to put up more fight. You act more and more like a fucking bitch. You
go back to your room. You fall back into your bed. You cry. You cry harder. You
hope harder. You fight harder. You become more defiant. Only with the hope that
someday there will be someone who will have enough balls to fight back. He will
push back and return all your craziness with his own imperfect affection. And your
brokenness will fit with each other’s like two missing pieces of one giant
puzzle. And he will fucking stay. And you will no longer be so fucking alone,
pathetic, fucked up, miserable in this big fucking world. And your flaws will
no longer be so haunting. You will no longer punish yourself for being an
outlier. And you will be happy. Not happily ever after kind of happy. But sitting
in the balcony together looking at the sun dropping behind mountain maze after
a shitty day kind of happy. Hating each other at times but can’t live without
even the quarrel kind of happy. Not giving a fucking shit about any third person
kind of happy. The kind of happy that burns your soul, curdles your blood but
you always end up drinking each other’s tears. But for the time being you
let the tears flow down into waste. And you keep hoping. That someday someone
will come along and he will fucking stay.
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