Skeptics

I used to want to get married. I heard a radio show today about marriage. About how it was constructed for the ownership of women. Now I can’t think about anything else. The death of my boyfriend undoubtedly changed me, turning me even more skeptical. 

I’ve never been a people-pleaser. I’ve always been an outcast, the black sheep, the lone wolf. The older I get, the more I’d rather be alone. Being alone comforts me. 

It’s about the little things in life, like taking an elevator trip by yourself. I figure one day it’ll all work out, and whether or not I know why I’m here won’t really matter in the end. The daydreaming part is more fun than reality, anyway.

Depression isn’t an excuse for missing work, it’s the reason you go to work. 

Love

That’s what love was. An endless sense of belonging. I would’ve never walked to anyone as fast as I ran to you. After 11 years of wondering, I finally got to be your girlfriend. It was like magic for me and I would have done anything for you. But the story about us stops. Abruptly. There is a new pain, so unexplainably deep, that irks me to my core. It is in the suffering of life without you. It is in every beautiful memory. I could never transcribe perfectly the moment when I think about your face, your voice. I can never get that back. I feel like I don’t believe in love anymore.