That day I hid in the bathroom, keeping quiet whenever I heard other people occupy the other stalls. I struggled to breathe normally. I was hiding, fleeing, staring down at my feet as I calmed myself between the narrow 4 walls of my dignity. It was a small detail that had ticked me off but I couldn’t stay in the lecture and keep pretending to be listening to the professor when my mind was a rapid whirlwind.
All I thought was… what was I even thinking? Honestly, I don’t remember. That might be the indication of how messy I’d been. I was feeling miserable. My heart felt crushed in my abdomen.
Does this ever stop? Will I always feel miserable?
I asked myself a bunch of questions in the speed of lightning and at one point my head went blank. Now I feel like I’m done with all the hurt. I keep wanting to deny and wanting to forget but fact of the matter is that I can’t.
I can’t force myself to do so, either. It takes time, naturally, but I don’t want to be bitter about it. For my own sake, especially. I don’t want to be hurting anymore, not more than I need to anyway.
Sure, this and that might tick me off but I don’t want to be that person that is bitter about everything. I wanna be that mature person who knows what does them good and acts on it.
I wanna be the person that keeps their heart big, no matter how many times it’s been beaten down on. Even if I can’t get or keep the love from somebody, I can still offer it unconditionally and not be a big bum about it. I can still offer it without expecting anything back.
I could easily turn this pain into hate. But in reality, I don’t want to make anyone feel bad because something didn’t work out. And I don’t want to make myself believe that I’m the problem or that I’m worthless.
Love, love, love, you guys. Even if it makes you feel like dying. It’s a much better form of hurting than hurting in hatred. Love.