Megan Glosson

I can’t help but love you — but my brain tells me not to say it just yet.

Each time I lose another lover, I convince myself that this time will be different — that I’ll be different. But without fail, someone comes along and sweeps me off my feet again shortly after, and I throw all caution to the wind as I fall hard and fast.

I want happiness that starts the minute the alarm sounds off each morning. I want to wake up and feel excited about the day ahead.

When I see you look at her, I realize just how naive I was to think that what we had was ever love.

I can’t help but wonder how different life would be if you were still here, still breathing next to me.

I think this time I’ve really lost you, I’ve lost your love for good.

Thinking about all the hugs of our past is keeping me alive.

If you’re actually going to love yourself, you have to do it every day.

I’m done lying to everyone, but most of all I’m done tormenting myself.

The world is crumbling beneath my feet; I can sense that you are leaving and may never return. We’ve been drifting apart for quite some time, yet I never stopped to care.

So many people have told me that “love is blind,” but most of the time I think it’s more that being in love blinds us to reality.

When you’ve experienced trauma, your body keeps the score.