Falling. Failure. Futility. Fake. The _f word that scares me. Scars that don't go away. Pain that doesn't cease to make me twitch every time I recollect the wounds. Only this time I wish they were physical. Leaving somebody mid-way and going away is easy. It's so fucking easy. Giving up. Letting go. Sometimes I wish it was that easy. For me. But the truth that stares me in the eye is that it isn't and maybe it's never going to be. My angel of a best friend once told me count your blessings. But is it so easy to count them when you live in constant fear of losing them. The past haunts you. The future makes you miserable and the present well is overcome by these all powerful emotions. “Guess he/ she didn't care.”
“Guess I wasn't good enough.”
But the question still lies. Will I ever be?
And who are those who will accept me for who I am.
So here I am counting my blessings. For they are those that light up my sky. My stars that have guided me and hopefully will continue to guide me home.