When my best friend told me she had a brain aneurism and the doctor gave her six months to live, I hugged her as she stared out the window, tears streaming down her face.
‘Try to make it to my funeral, I’ll understand if you can’t.’
That was the first time I took my guilt and buried it. Stuffed it under my uncle’s sorrow and my best friend’s fear.
I never knew how to be someone’s rock, but after years and years of shouldering other people’s pain and ignoring my own, I became harder and harder. Stone by stone my wall became higher.
I can take your pain, but do not ask about mine. That’s buried far too deep and this wall is too high.❞
You’re so fucking predictable.
Almost like you’re following a script. I can see every move you make. Before you even know you’ll make it.
And I wish you’d prove me wrong.
But you won’t. Set in your ways, you’ll never be better.
asthmatics are actually people with the souls of mermaids, who never adapted to breathing air 100% of the time