ofyesteryear If you keep talking fast enough, you can talk yourself out of the man you are in love with, but only temporarily. The silence always comes, and the moon will glare at you again with its unblinking watchful eye, and you will crumble like stars.
Confusion is the biggest lie we tell ourselves. It is the easy excuse we give to lovers and friends and family to keep them here with us a little longer, because we know that what we need to tell them is going to break their fucking hearts.
Nothing hurts more than hurting the ones we love in complex ways simply by being ourselves. And so we live in a world where everyone is pretending to be someone different, and when you are an empath, believe me, you can smell it a mile away—the world is on the nose. It reeks of bullshit.