Social Media pains me.
It's back to this recurring thought: "You are my first waking thought, and my last sigh before sleeping. You are - you are bone of my bone, and breath of my breath."
I died a million times inside.
and I re-emerged from the darkness.
Still alive, still carrying that torch of a dying flame.
I wish you could be gentler, more thoughtful, discerning even.
I keep fighting this because I feel safer fighting.
I hold on and I fight.
Running away will mean you'll come back and haunt me.
To think I almost made a decision to appear infront of you, again.
