Amanda Cirocco

I don’t know if what I ever felt was love, or just lack of. I don’t know if my fascination and unrealistic expectations led me so far down the rabbit hole I never got out of it.

I don’t know why I can’t move on and let it go. I know I can- I just don’t want to.

I hope that one day I will know that I did all I could, and that my best was good enough, and my best was better for someone else.

If he says he is too tired to walk you out in the morning, tell him to go to bed earlier.

I could lock the love I have, or for that matter had, for you, into something that I could carry around with me, something tangible, in hopes that I could feel safe again or to remind myself that at one point I had love in something, that I believed in- something that wasn’t myself, I would throw the key away- I wouldn’t search for lost goods.

I think you’re moving on, I know you are. I need to do the same, but there is a part of me that can’t, more so, I simply do not want to.

Lets face it, they are everywhere but you may not realize how many fuckboys you actually come into contact with on a daily basis.