I wish you knew how much I would punish myself before you hurt me. I wish I knew how much pain it would all be. For me to say I knew better would be a lie.  What I did was for the better. Just not the better outcome.  I think about you sometimes. In fleeting moments. Sometimes when I'm hoping life is good for you. A sort of bittersweet.  I wonder how I would feel if you find that person I hoped to be. For a long time, the idea of a door closing sounded unbearable.  I guess that just means I've been holding onto an imagined something. A metaphysical attachment to you. No one tells you how hard it is to wash away a mark left by people you encounter in your life. It feels impossible at times. It's this repetitive thing. Like OCD minus the comfort of aligned. I think moving on is realizing that perhaps, you weren't really washing them away. You were learning to live with it.  I'm going to move past you. I keep waiting for you to realize that its been me this entire ...

I think I'm the type of person that notices everything. 

To have that drive that you can lose everything at any moment in a place full of opportunities. You can truly make it.

Sometimes, I think about this hypothetical person who knows everything about me. I hope that person smiles and loves me in all of my faults and shortcomings. 

I have something a lot of people covet. I never really thought much about it because I thought it was this common thing for everyone. I have the ability to love and to genuinely mean it without expectations of anything in return. I'm able to reflect the love I give to people and to myself. Is that not amazing? It's bewildering to think that a trait like that, a trait like mine, is not innately embedded in every person. 

The fact that we are trying is what matters. 

My loneliness always creeps up on me. I have always felt isolated by the world. Sometimes, I fault it because I can't empathize enough, or maybe I lack social skills. Lately, another thought has crossed my mind: Maybe I'm just too different from other people. Getting along is not supposed to be this internal battle with my mind where anxieties and overthinking collide. Maybe I exist to be alone, not because I like being alone, but because there's a naturality to it. By nature, I'm just not like them. To enjoy them is to be like them and to deny me. I don't want that.