I miss the hope that I used to hold dear in my heart.
I miss that feeling of being fully known, fully loved.
I miss the utter confidence with which I answered life’s greatest questions.
I miss that knowledge of something bigger. Someone who had my back.
I miss letting my whole body give in to the bliss.
Sometimes, it’s hard to tell if I’m healing or simply coping.
Do we ever know if we’re past the trauma or if it simply hasn’t caught up yet?
Rarely do I ask the question if I can go back. But, I do. Ask the question.
I used to ask a lot less questions. I used to accept the answers. Bullshit answers, most of them.
In some ways I’ve lost a certain sincerity.
Being aware enough to discern between the cynicism and honesty within yourself is a difficult task.