Funny how it is the aftermath
that feels like the most painful path.
Though that moment is gone,
I can't seem to move on.
It's when memories start to haunt you,
and the present seems so far away,
you're stuck in a past that clouds your view
replaying all the scenes that sting like daggers
and crying over what's no longer there.
It feels so unfair.
It's when the brain begins to rewrite history
and squeezes it into an ugly frame.
Then when you try to pull out, suddenly
things never seem the same;
the past just won't settle
and it leaves you scrambled.
It's an everyday battle
when you're brain tries to convince you
that you're not loved,
that you're never enough,
and that this was all your fault,
and I have to tell myself a hundred times it's not the case.
When it starts to convert pain into hate
and blissful nostalgia into greif
It’s not fun, in brief.
Now I feel like I’m dying inside
day and night, sometimes all the time
as if this will never subside.
Imagine waking up and remembering,
then wishing you could just stop thinking.
Imagine you do something enjoying,
then realize you're not deserving.
Every couple that passes by
internally makes me cry.
And any heart that catches my eye
looks a bit broken,
like it's bleeding or darkened
or has that imaginary zig-zag line
like there is on mine.
Heartbreak is hard.
Living with it is harder.
Feb 26, 2025
Feb 26, 2025 at 5:39 PM UTC
Funny how it is the aftermath
that feels like the most painful path.
Though that moment is gone,
I can't seem to move on.
It's when memories start to haunt you,
and the present seems so far away,
you're stuck in a past that clouds your view
replaying all the scenes that sting like daggers
and crying over what's no longer there.
It feels so unfair.
It's when the brain begins to rewrite history
and squeezes it into an ugly frame.
Then when you try to pull out, suddenly
things never seem the same;
the past just won't settle
and it leaves you scrambled.
It's an everyday battle
when you're brain tries to convince you
that you're not loved,
that you're never enough,
and that this was all your fault,
and I have to tell myself a hundred times it's not the case.
When it starts to convert pain into hate
and blissful nostalgia into greif
It’s not fun, in brief.
Now I feel like I’m dying inside
day and night, sometimes all the time
as if this will never subside.
Imagine waking up and remembering,
then wishing you could just stop thinking.
Imagine you do something enjoying,
then realize you're not deserving.
Every couple that passes by
internally makes me cry.
And any heart that catches my eye
looks a bit broken,
like it's bleeding or darkened
or has that imaginary zig-zag line
like there is on mine.
Heartbreak is hard.
Living with it is harder.
Just something that came to mind when I got depressed
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