I am one of those individuals who tend to shut people out of my life when I become insecure. For some odd reason, I find that if I stop communicating with my problems then it will disappear. I was wrong. Countless times.
I have lost my interest in people a long time ago.
People always disappoint.
I hate people.
How extremely beautiful it is to be alone and imperfect and incomplete and wake up one day realizing that all is well and as it should be.
To heartaches and things one can never be, to standards that were made to never be kept up with, to nights that drag longer than it should, to pasts that are no more, to presents that are no less, and to the future, that’s anybody’s guess.
To many things in life I do not understand, and to the beauty it withholds.