Stoned out of our minds from the chillum of highly stale weed that I found. The sunlight filtered in through the curtains, falling on his arms. Strong. He'd hold me forever he said, he wouldn't let go.
I was emotional. It was a strange kind of melancholy.
I woke up from the dream and realised that P's been gone for 3 years now. He bought a one-way ticket and he's never going to return. I didn't want to get out of bed. I wanted to dream again.
By pretending to be strong all this while, I realised that the child in me wasn't dead yet, just stuck somewhere dying to breathe.
Love never dies, your priorities in life change. A part of me will always be stuck trying to get over the man I loved who left me stranded.
It's always the same story.
The cycle ends only when you die.
