there are just some things in life you don’t want to hear.

"you’ve broken [a bone in your body]", "i’m sorry you’re card’s been declined" (while at mcdonalds) or "i think we should break up".

[i had started writing this strange mind vomit full of witty remarks and subtle jabs to cover my emotions, but i decided the reason behind this post deserved some real talk]

i’m on struggle street. the fact is i had to say that final quote last week and it hurt. it hurt endlessly. i still care for the person who had to hear it, i still love him (not in the say “i love you” way) but it became apparent to me that we need to stop seeing each other. yet, in my conclusions, which i thought were solid enough to withstand tears; i ached. my heart actually ached. not in a way that was a “we’re meant to be together, i should turn back on this decision” but just in how much pain you can consciously cause another human being to feel. 

i always thought i could navigate through life without hurting someone consciously. and i know that i’ve hurt people unconsciously… which is also horrible, but there’s such a difference in seeing the consequences to your actions unfold in front of you. i didn’t want to hurt him, but i knew i would. the thing i never could’ve imagined is how much. even now, days later, i am lethargic and constantly on the verge of, if not already, crying. i feel selfish, but i know it’s for the best; i just wish life wasn’t so cruel.

"you’ve got to be cruel to be kind" makes a little bit more sense to me now. knowing my feelings and his, deciding what i have, to be kind. i wonder why my heart is so soft, my eyes so prone to tears, my mind so lacking in words. my housemate explained to me that i wasn’t crying for myself, that i was crying for him; and i never understood until she breathed those words. i have an empathetic heart. i just wish there were more letters to distract from the ‘pathetic’ part of that sentence.

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finding out wherever there is comfort there is pain. only one step away.
–four seasons in one day, crowded house.

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I have so much I want to tell you, and nowhere to begin.
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Once, Picasso was asked what his paintings meant. He said, ‘Do you ever know what the birds are singing? You don’t. But you listen to them anyway.’ So, sometimes with art, it is important just to look.
–Marina Abramović

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