“I know that what I say will not hurt you, for you never felt what I felt for you; I was so used to your rancor that I mistook it for love.”
A lot without writing. Maybe also a long time without being invaded by so many thoughts and emotions. Sometimes, like today, I wonder how far I have really come in terms of mental health.
I am still undecided, with intervals of very intense feelings, insecure. I know I have made progress in some things, but in others not as much as I would like.
I think it helped to cry for a few seconds and what I want now is just to sleep. I'm just a bad attempt at an adult who lives tired.