Cynthia Bonitz

I just can’t do it anymore. For such a long while I was so OK with it, but I’m really so over all that now. I’m too old to not give a fuck.

You will regret deleting his number at first. It’s expected.

Just because he’s good on paper doesn’t mean that he’s “the one” or he’s even good enough for “right now.” Settling is a curse.

Maybe love is just a breath, a sense of calm, a steady feeling that you can’t quite put your finger on.

At the end of the day I can’t help but to think that if these guys actually wanted to be with me, they just would.

Until the music stops. Until I’ve slammed all the drinks. Until I smoked all the cigarettes. Until the bad sex is over. Until the party ends.

God, I loved you. You changed everything, you know.

I don’t want you to love me as a friend.

When you refuse to feel stagnant and unimportant by doing everything differently than how it’s been, you will find yourself again.

I am here for you. Always.

Of course while in the thick of my silence and stillness, drinking wine and playing songs. I think about what it would be like to have someone in my life. I’ve been alone for so long. I know myself so well.

I believed in it enough for the both of us. You and me and our own rules, living so unlike everyone else because our love was different.