Do you know what the hardest part of getting over someone is? It’s moving on.
You can say you don’t love them anymore, even if it is because they moved a few thousand miles away.
You can say it’s because you finally realized they were no good for you, as you stuff your face with sugary substances in which you can’t even pronounce half of the ingredients.
You can say you’ll never take them back, while you look in your old haunts for a glimpse of their favorite sweater or their car parked in that exact same spot.
You can say it’s because you’ve finally realized your worth, and at the same time practically begging anyone who will talk with you for attention.
You can say so many things about why you’re over someone and why this will be the last time but actually moving on isn’t easy. It’s a grind. It takes time. It takes patience. It takes perseverance.
It takes not wanting to be lonely anymore. Not the kind of lonely where you’re all alone, but the kind of lonely where you have someone you want to be with but they don’t want to be with you. Where they said they would meet you but never showed up and didn’t say why. Where they did show up but seemed disinterested in your company. When they say, “sorry what?” to practically everything you were excited to tell them. Being alone is better than being lonely with someone.
To finally move on from someone you need to do more than forget them, you need to remember why you tried to forget them in the first place. All of the hurt they caused you when all you wanted to do was make them happy. How many times did you do something nice and they disregarded it? How much effort did you put into their life with little return in your own? How often did you make them cum while they rolled over and went to sleep after?
“I have to get up early, baby. Next time will be all for you.”
There never was a next time.
I am not a strong woman and I have never claimed to be. I’m easily manipulated and fooled. I’m easy to forgive and hard to forget. I bruise and bleed at a gentle blow. My heart is fragile. I am who I am but I keep living the way I know how, even if its wrong.
Down the wrong street.
On the wrong tracks.
In the wrong direction.
I can’t seem to get myself on the right path, but what I do know is that when I’ve moved on I’m gone.
Just Like Lana 