I no longer have the energy for meaningless friendships, forced interactions or unnecessary conversations.
When you left, I need you to understand that I’m not blaming you, but when you left I was very numb for a while. I remember that I slept well that night. It took a couple of days for me to realize that we were done. When it hit, it felt like how I’d imagined it’d feel to swallow razor blades. I’d spent many times with them pinched between my thumb and index finger. I remember that I couldn’t tell you that I relapsed because you’d blame yourself. I cried a lot. It wasn’t your fault. For a while your name was triggering to me. I think the worst part was that I knew I couldn’t hate you. I wanted to be mad at you, I tried for a while. It’s been a year and I’m okay now. I miss you, but I’m not crying anymore.
A letter to the boy who broke my heart at sixteen, v.m. (via anxius)
this is literally the most beautiful love story my god
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Lovers by Marcel Mastenmiller