Alone on a Sunday
Alone on a Sunday, in a place you don’t belong, never belonged. Lonely and broken, a cracked mirror reflecting nothing but damage. You’re darkness that’s not understood, that no one thinks to brighten. You’re constant thought with nowhere to go, buried under unsaid words. You want to go home, but you can’t, so you’re alone on a Sunday.
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Wasn’t honest
I write with one rule for myself, whatever I write has to be honest when I write it. I can change my mind, evolve, but everything has to be true in the moment. So, when I wrote that I don’t want Sara back, it wasn’t honest, and I knew it wasn’t honest. I want my feelings toward her to be that simple, but they’re not, at all. I love her, and I’m angry with her, and she hurt me, and I failed her, and I miss her, and I don’t want to miss her, and I could love someone else, and I don’t want to be alone.
Now I feel honest.
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