Peri Koussa

I don’t love you because you care about my family or my friends or my feelings. I don’t love you because. I simply love you.

You managed to bet on something hopeless and somehow find a way to give it hope.

I think part of what makes us whole is that we don’t hide from the imperfections.

I wish I could put my feelings for you in a box. I wish I could show you how scared you make me.

I’m sorry that I question your loving words, even when you follow through with actions. Years of broken promises still haunt me.

I always prayed for someone like you, but I never thought you actually existed.

He didn’t stay. You compromised, you fought, you begged, you pleaded, you prayed, but he let you go. And that is reason enough to let him go.

Lord, help me reject the idea that people will fix my brokenness. I want to find a way to heal on my own. I want to find a way to heal with You.

I’ve let people see what they need to see, but I don’t know if I’ve ever let anyone see the real, unedited me. I don’t even know if I’ve ever let myself see that me.

Something about us just felt right. But I just have to keep reminding myself that he doesn’t feel the same way.

I know this is something very strange for a 23-year-old to think about, but I often think about it—and with this coronavirus outbreak, I can’t help but think about it even more. 

It’s time for me to accept blame for my role in the mess that I inevitably end up in post-breakup and choose better guys.