It’s hard to forgive people, it’s difficult none the least to forgive all the betrayel, hurt, broken promises and told secrets. It’s so damn hard, but we do it non the less. To justify the relationship, to broaden our horizons. To let go. Yet… It’s harder to forgive ourselves. Living in a destructive mind, blowing up any chance I had in returning to my good old self was not easy to say that least. I had to forgive the mercyless hands that touched my bones and left me to die. The tearful nights I layed in my bed at 5 in the morning early enough to hear the birds waking up to sing there beautiful songs. They sounded like broken records to me, like a sharp blade cutting threw my pale skin only to not bleed, but barely sting. All of the smiles around seemed something of a fairytale. Unrealistic and all aware of the black eternal spot we each hold inside of ourselves. I tried to forgive myself a day at a time, for every thought that wasn’t good. For every thought that screamed and attacked. I noticed everything bad in the world, I held resentment for all of the good. I never noticed the good. The flowers in bloom, the cars coming and going. The mystery of it all. I regret not trying harder, to fix myself. I once sat up crying for two days straight for no reason, I could just feel my heart breaking, I could just feel the pain of everything all at once. Then something changed, something inside me lit up. Like a spark of some kind. The lighting of a match inside of my lungs and the blue becoming a little shade lighter. I had my off days, I had the days that I couldn’t get out of bed and all I wanted was myself and my pity. Until I noticed the good in the comfort of my own cage, the one I screwed so tightly I couldn’t unlock. It took a lot of time to realise I wasn’t unhappy anymore. I haven’t felt like that since. I haven’t cried for feeling trapped and unwanted or uncared for. I just smiled it out and wrote it down and sent it away. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, for most people that’s a long way from home. It’s about getting up and getting out. It’s about finding a passion. Exploding into thin air never felt so good. I never felt so alive. My heart skips when I think of why. Why this changed me. Why? Because it takes a lot of loss to gain, even in the smallest quantity. Realise and rationalise with ones self in such a pit of hurt, it’s a terrifying thing to do. Forgiving everything that has happened, becoming the true colour of yourself can be tricky, it’s tricky for a lot of people. These are never words for insperation of catorizing yourself into that portion of society, it’s being the full length of your craziness and making that weakeness your strength. It’s an amazing time to be astray, that’s when you truely appreciate the journey.