Saturday, January 5, 2013

I cried myself silly while dancing and even when the movements stopped, the tears didn't.
I wanted to lie curled up on the floor for the longest time.

Memory can be such a taunting affair, I remember words said, I remember things done and most of all I remember what I felt, how I felt, why I felt that way and why I feel the way I do now.

What if I said I had given my best every single time? Does that count for anything, anything at all? Can I say that it's unfair, that I walk scalded instead? And all I have left, is my blind faith, I don't know if it's a blessing or a curse.

Is it painful memories that feed the insecurity or is it insecurity that feeds the painful memories? I've been through this so many times, that everything seems to start and end at one. And nights like these, I feel such an aching hollow, unworthy. Because my mile was deemed as nothing but a yard, and hearts do get weary.

But I will be okay, as I always am.
I will dry these tears, put on my kohl and rouge, and make up for how I feel on the inside.
There's only that much downtime I will allow myself to have, so many broken pieces... to pick up.

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