The pathetic part is you actually sit there and wait. Yes, you sit there and talk to your phone and hope to God he’ll call.
Maybe only some of us were meant to be tortured.
It’s your ex. It’s your break-up. It’s your end. It’s your issue-that-seems-to-be-taking-over-your-mind-every-waking-moment-of every-waking-day.
Or something like that.
I have not found life to be horribly difficult. I will attest that I make much bigger deals out of things than need-be, but with an accurate, passive, look back, I realize that life has been quite rosier on my side than most.
With one exception.
Yes, that whole “getting-over” stage that it seems everyone refuses to talk openly about but everybody knows about after getting to know you in five minutes.
Or without the five-minute introduction.
Either way, most people will admit getting hit in the face sucks, but heartbreak—there is no comparison.
“Punch me in the face, I’ll bleed.”
Worked for Toby. But movies aren’t real-life.
Those who experience it, hate it. But those who experience remind others they’re not alone.
One man’s tears may be another man’s comfort.
It’s fortunate, it’s unfortunate.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this disease, it’s time. Time may not be an emotion savior, but it’s on your side. It lets you grieve. It’s available. It’s always giving more. It’s reminding you that tomorrow is waiting and that yesterday is over. It’s comforting.
Time is knocking again. Or maybe stepping on the pieces left. Time’s backside is reminding you that it’s not unlimited. It’s long, but certainly not forever.
Time, heartbreak. How much do we really know about these things? How much can twenty years really teach a person?
They teach you everything. They make you realize the sun isn’t always shining. Life isn’t that movie you’re watching, that song you’re hearing, or the game you’re playing.
Here’s what I say: take what you’ve experienced and run with it, not against it.
Time is short, heartbreak is long. You decide which one will change your life.
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