I used to think I was a strong person. But maybe I was just lying to myself.
The fact that I’m still alive with scars on my wrist is what helps me keep telling the lie.
But honestly, although I like to think that I could love someone again, I don’t know that I could.
People leave and then you’re alone and crying.
And though it’s great in the beginning, and usually the middle. There’s always the end. Always.
Being broken up with twice, and breaking up with someone once due to them clearly not loving me any more…so basically, having three people fall out of love with me, leads one to believe in one’s flaws more than one’s (apparent) positives.
They saw too many flaws and faults, so they left. And that’s the truth of it.
No amount of positive thinking can change that bottom line.