Aug 7, 2023
Pg. 218
I’m back where I started out.
I always seem to put myself in these kinds of situations. Although the world seems so bleak, whenever I am into someone, hope runs through my veins supplying my heart with lies.
Why must I always hold space for people in my life, people whom I represent nothing but a mere past time, a used toy in the box which is not the best, but good enough until the next one, shiny and factory-fresh, shows up.
I’m tired of being the second choice always. I’m tired of never being enough to hold an important place in someone else’s life.
I’m better alone. But shit, even through my selfishness, I don’t even hold importance in my life for myself.