𝑼𝒏𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ׁ֪
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Архив постов
1 166
Somewhere between “I remember” and “I don't care anymore,” there is an entire version of you
that nobody ever gets to meet.
1 166
Life has gotten so strange sometimes you just don’t know how to put it into words.
1 166
There’s no revenge here. We both messed up. You couldn’t love me the way you should have, and I couldn’t bring myself to leave you.
1 166
Maybe some people don't enter your life to stay.
Maybe they come just long enough to change the meaning of a song forever.
1 166
Adulting is realizing that sometimes you make decisions you just have to learn to live with and grieve.
1 166
There are things I never threw away not because I still need them, but because they once belonged to a version of me I loved.
1 166
Perhaps the saddest kind of nostalgia
is missing a life you didn't know was happening while you were living it.
1 166
Maybe healing is not becoming who you were before.
Maybe it's meeting the person you've become
and finally deciding to stay.
1 166
Maybe being loved is not someone holding you forever.
Maybe it's someone knowing exactly where you're fragile
and choosing to be gentle there.
1 166
If my heart had a bookshelf,
your name wouldn't be on the cover of a book.
It would be written in the margins of all of them.
1 166
She stopped texting first. Not because she didn’t care, but because she got tired of proving it alone.
