fuck it

I’ve cried everyday for the last month. I’m fucking exhausted. Thinking about him, thinking about us. Thinking about what could’ve been. Thinking about what was. Questioning his motives. Questioning mine. Facing the fear that nobody will ever truly love me for me because I’ll never reach the unattainable goal of being the person I’ve created…

I Don’t Exist Again

I’d been out partying all night, two new friends were visiting Berlin, and during their visit we’d all hooked up now and then. One of them invited me back to his hotel a couple of times, but I politely refused because I simply didn’t feel ready to share a bed with someone. The last night…