I found a box today... I had to quickly close it and label it "seven."
A few seconds later I opened it up again and proceeded to bawl like a baby. For an hour, at least.
I'm baffled by how something like that can still hurt so bad. I had no control over the situation, nor any say in the decisions and actions of those involved. Still, I can't help but look at these printouts and trinkets and completely lose my mind all over again.
They were mine, too.
And while I am thankful, I am also not the best at coping with the facts.
I just wanted stability in my life. 2½ years later, I think I finally have it...
but getting here took far too long. I hope that there is still some good guy left in me for someone who deserves it.
Time to crank up some music and try my damn hardest to clear my mind.
