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(via overflowing)
I write way too much sometimes I think. My journal, which is actually a sketchbook, and which I bought for the sole purpose of sketching and doodling my emotions away has given way to written word vomit. And it has been filled up with thoughts, anxieties and worries about this person and events that surround/ed this person. I used to tell myself that this person had a reason - he had a purpose in my journey. But time and again, because I can be naive, too hopeful, confused, seeking clarity, and because I’ve let my guards down and was vulnerable and chucked my critical thinking skills with this person, the slow burn of regret and guilt would creep up and it would leave me with bitterness and frustration of time wasted and retorts of the expiration date being up and how the issue has become stale. Words save me but going back to read them they bring me down too. I drown in my own words because right now because I am disoriented and I want so badly for life to open up its beauty to me.(via overflowing)
I write way too much sometimes I think. My journal, which is actually a sketchbook, and which I bought for the sole purpose of sketching and doodling my emotions away has given way to written word vomit. And it has been filled up with thoughts, anxieties and worries about this person and events that surround/ed this person. I used to tell myself that this person had a reason - he had a purpose in my journey. But time and again, because I can be naive, too hopeful, confused, seeking clarity, and because I’ve let my guards down and was vulnerable and chucked my critical thinking skills with this person, the slow burn of regret and guilt would creep up and it would leave me with bitterness and frustration of time wasted and retorts of the expiration date being up and how the issue has become stale. Words save me but going back to read them they bring me down too. I drown in my own words because right now because I am disoriented and I want so badly for life to open up its beauty to me.
