Just Another Diary

Fix yourself.

And we fall apart, piece by piece. You find yourself trapped in a melancholy. A thick blanket of dread wraps itself around you, chains of anxiety and sorrow keep you shackled to the ground. Flashbacks of the past replay in your mind time and time again, every word uttered is like a scar engraved on your heart, a wound that can only be numbed but never completely healed or so it feels.

The reminiscence of how naïve and stupid we were hits us hard across the face, the stinging pain a constant reminder of our mistakes. The feeling of euphoria was so strong, it blinded us, took us down a path where we knew there would be a dead end, yet we walked and walked only to find ourselves trapped in uncertainty. One beautiful mistake lead to one grotesque mess. In that moment of darkness, you realize it is only you who can clean it up and it is only you who has to pick up your broken pieces and fix yourself. You find something inside yourself missing, a part of you died within that mess, snatched away by the hurricane you stirred.

The seeds of emotions so deep rooted in the pure soil of your heart that taking them out would no doubt damage that already breaking heart, you'll want to rip it out and feel the anguish, the pain bleeding into your veins, you would want new seeds of passionate hate but for a heart so pure, hurt is inevitable and hate isn't possible. So you'll take the last shreds of the damaged heart, lock them in a box and bury it somewhere deep within you head, you'll throw away the key and try to wipe all things clean, begin with a fresh start. But a paper once crumpled can never be the same again, it is only time which makes you used to that sheet of paper, you learn to accept it with its creases and uneven edges.

Some wounds can never be healed, however time allows us to cope with them, to adjust, to live, and to smile through it all.