These are not my thoughts, but I like them, and what's more I agree with them. I think these thoughts are wise. I think these thoughts are truth. I know that anything in my life whether it be romantic, academic, emotional, spiritual and the like, whatever hiccup along the way will just make me limp for a little bit. I have learned that in life. Life goes on, no matter what and most importantly this too shall pass!
http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/5-songs-for-a-man-i-used-to-know/
"You said you didn’t want to see me anymore and I said okay. You said I was such a stoic. I said I yelp when I get a paper cut but I didn’t cry when my grandmother died. Did you want me to cry?
You didn’t break my heart, and I wouldn’t let you think that you did.
“You’re so comfortable and I’m so awkward. Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Can’t we start over?” You were only half-joking.
“Okay,” I said and began fake bawling into my sleeve and you laughed.
After that we argued about music for an hour. Things were going to be okay, we really would be friends. And I liked that a whole lot more than losing you from my life completely, as if you had never been there.
A month later I felt something. I felt numb, like I had shut myself off. I took down pictures of us because I couldn’t stand not feeling anything when I looked at you. I could’ve spent a long time with you, maybe because I really liked you, or maybe because I never wanted you to hurt me.
I never wanted to be some faceless name on your long list of ladies twenty years from now. Originally, I was hoping that you’d look back and think to yourself, ‘Man, Elyssa was really cool. I’m glad I met her.’
But, no, you didn’t break my heart. You broke, like, my toe. When people’s hearts break, or bust open or whatever, they die. I just limped around for a while, and I healed eventually. It’s a funny thing about toes, though. Even after they heal, they’re never quite the same as they were before.
I’m glad it was just my toe, though. I only had to learn to walk again. "
(credit postsecret.com)
