And when we flick off the light switch we are faced with the beds we make for ourselves.
Though completely consumed by the darkness surrounding, questions stare us down until our weary minds resort to sleep. We twist and turn in the silence and fight away the things that the daylight only conceal, our fears, insecurities, feelings.

Our hearts remain restless while we wrestle with the night, until sleep brings us a sweet new day,

A chance to change.

And that canvas with that picture you painted for my birthday this year,
I painted it white today
It is blank


Ready to start over,


So am I

"He might be your first love, but he won't be your last"

Wow.

Are you kidding me?

And I stumbled across a photograph that felt like a kick in my gut
Everything about me had been stripped bare from the linings of your life
It was fresh and new and everything that we're supposed to be now.
All moved around to somehow create a start-over face for you
The space I belonged in was empty, any hopeless remainders of me cleaned away, either moved into hiding, or simply discarded for some other stranger to take note of on their way elsewhere.
Then I noticed the piece of another broken heart just waiting to be picked up.
As one rises, another falls
What's it going to be?

And the only thing keeping me going is knowing that oneday you're going to be happier without me.

Dear Bridget Jones,
I have just found myself lipsyncing Celine Dions "All By Myself" whilst eating too much and being overemotional. We are quite similar, except that you were drinking wine and I am eating gummy snakes because I am underage and do not enjoy the taste nor the effects of alcohol. Though I realise this means that we are both very pathetic, we should probably be friends. We could listen to it together and not be all by ourselves.
It would be a much better plan.
Yours Sincerely,
Lydia