Like when you are incredibly drunk and each step seems almost other worldly, as though gravity is working differently and you may just topple over at any moment, or everything around you seems to be going just that little bit too fast.
My messages were unanswered. There was no communication, no effort, no sign that he wanted to stay connected. So maybe blocking him didn’t really end anything. Maybe it simply helped me accept what had already ended.
Many people attempt to overhaul their lives overnight, adopting rigid, exhausting schedules that burn out within a week. They rely on sheer willpower, scribbling random to-do lists on scraps of paper or opening chaotic digital calendars that lack structure.
And I think of you like a soft little lamb, a stupidly tender thing that allows itself to be slaughtered for others to enjoy. Though they only enjoy you for a moment. You don’t care.