‘Option to extend’ resonates in my ear, like, options are something I can choose to have, or rely on. Options, to continue this life of living alone, but no options to find my way back to you. Options, in being able to come back home, but no options to living beside you. 'Option to extend’: Accepted, heading back West to where I loved myself, the only place I’ve ever known to love me back, purely, with no ownership, with no restraints. There’s nothing left for me here in the East, no mountains calling good morning in the distance, no waterfalls to wash away all my doubts. I wake up, here, alone, cold, and afraid, stunted by all the damages I’ve yet to repair, but I have no desire to. I’ve left the mess of my ruin for someone else to clean, and took my baggage across the state lines, carried them upon my back like whipping marks, told myself to find a new place to lick my wounds. Starting over by myself seems a hell of a lot more noble, than pouring my uncertainties into someone else. loving myself harder than all the half loving lovers, put together to cause this cynicism in my heart. I am not to blame for always getting burned, when I fall for hearts that set me on fire. If only I could put out the flame before it gets too bright, maybe I’d have the option to keep you. For now, 'Option to extend’: Accepted
Theres Nothing For Me To Go Back To, (coloringtheworldwithwords)