I realized today…that I’m so pissed at myself for censoring my thoughts a year ago. Every single visceral pen stroke that I’d erased at the behest of a lying, whining face wanting to preserve social dignity.

Of course comfort wasn’t found so quickly in the arms and bed of another. Of course my feelings matter. Of course I’m simply a casualty of love and it wasn’t meant to be this way.

Of course every word from my lips wasn’t meant to hurt you, though I only laughed as you fell further and further.

It’s curious…never before have I wanted to destroy something in my life so completely. I’ve always been the sentimental one to retain and remember even the slightest and meaningless things…but as I started erasing those wasteful thoughts, I understood that my heart was happier.

I don’t want to feel happier by erasing someone’s existence. This doesn’t feel like the right thing to have in my heart.