Damaged Goods
I feel better now. much better. there's still a hole in the middle of my chest, but its smaller now, it doesn't hurt as much as it used to, and it doesn't bother me as much as it used to either, although the throbbing madness and the unrelated coincidences would never stop. its gone, permanently, but not really. certain things, certain moments, like a good old sad song or a sentence, also scents, could trigger it to come back, but those things don't have big power like it used to have. I won't deny that this can't be completely be gone. this thing.
I realized last night, that this thing had happened to me before. or actually this thing is still happening with me, that it didn't leave, only remain hidden in the dark after all this time, waiting to be remembered again. thats why I felt it overwhelmingly familiar. or maybe it was on a pause and something triggered it to come back, something pressed "Play" button. that something was a circumstance that occurred 6 months ago. it took me six months to get my arse back on track. but I'm still damaged.
I realized last night, that this thing had happened to me before. or actually this thing is still happening with me, that it didn't leave, only remain hidden in the dark after all this time, waiting to be remembered again. thats why I felt it overwhelmingly familiar. or maybe it was on a pause and something triggered it to come back, something pressed "Play" button. that something was a circumstance that occurred 6 months ago. it took me six months to get my arse back on track. but I'm still damaged.