Blurred lines.

Broken strings & Pretty things

Around this time I wrote a similar post to this  ( ), writing about how, at some points, it feels like you’ve hit rock bottom. It’s those days where nothing goes right, and these days can just merge into weeks of the constant numb of expected sadness. Maybe it goes on for a month. Maybe a couple more. But at some point, you finally awake from your lonesome-induced coma and suddenly see colour; the once grey shadows suddenly have somewhat of a glisten; the burnt-out edges and broken parts gain a form of clarity.
Because you realise the world gets better. It just takes a little time.

And a little while ago, I scrawled my feelings across an old notebook in the middle of a library because that’s where I finally cracked, and let it all out. Sometimes that’s all you need: to just let it go.
But something, somewhere…

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