It may have slipped my mind

Death. Sometimes brutal, sometimes natural endings. When I picked this card, I knew that you and I weren't ending. But something about us is. I've felt it coming, there is nothing to deny. The pain I've felt from being in your life has surpassed the joy. It's causing me distress. Speaking of which, it's rendered me non-productive and I can't allow that. Even if I would still drop everything if given the chance, just to be with you. something tells me it would be worth it.

There is too much suffering.

This won't qualify. It's over.

Whatever comes next is up to us. As in: it's entirely up to you, don't you let me lose you this way. I'm fading out. It's loud - right at you - my heart is being loud and you, surely, are hearing it and playing silly while I die a little more each day. So much drama. so.much.drama. You said this, I said that. And above all, what you DIDN'T say. It's killing me.

This is a part that I'm letting go of, I'll burn it with my journals when the time comes.

Still, if I didn't think of messaging you a thousand times today, I didn't think of it at all.

Il faudra quand même

J'ai décidé d'avancer, de te laisser continuer de me briser le coeur, à répétition, pour y faire de la place, parce qu'il continue de gonfler et d'apprendre à battre un peu trop fort à chaque fois. We should be lovers.
Not even, I don't know what we should be. I'm in love with you, it's obvious, everytime you speak or dance with someone else, I cry inside. It's the worst cliché I've ever been, there must be a reason. Or not. Just live. Love and be loved. You're so light, it's burning through my soul. I see your cravings, we are soul mates, I used to be you, you are me we are love, love is all we are what we are what I am, love is what I am. I know you can't be what I want you to be. That's why I'm going to let you break my heart, so that it doesn't happen again for the same reason, with someone else. I'm gonna let you break my heart. I'm gonna let you break my heart. 


It will heal.

Le trapèze.

Qu'est-ce qui m'a manquée ? Je suis partie éclater de mots, brûler sous les regards avides, mourant de ma propre honte d'être nue en public. Nue, vraiment ? Je ne sais pas si j'y arriverais. Je n'ai plus la fougue d'antan, une douceur l'a rongé. Je n'ai plus de morgue, elle est partie songer l'été. Et derrière tout ça, le trapèze.

Je ne l'ai jamais oublié. 

Je saute

Et tant pis pour la chute.

Chaque jour

... où tu ne m'appelles pas, je meurs un peu plus.