the kind of illness medicine cant cure... i wish i was the old me... the me that break down easily... that cry my heart out and over useless bums like the number of useless bums out there.
i dreamt a horid dream last night... of tears and heartache, of rejection and fear... of loneliness and anger... and when i woke up, i realised it wasnt a dream.... my eyes were swollen, my heart heavy, and i was still alone... (for some things, waking up is not enough... you have to move on.)
luckily... there were friends, friends who come when i call... friends who just share my time and my space... my heartbeat and my silence.
i have to be brave, braver then him... to make the decision i know is coming.
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