All the inner deads. Little by little. They will come honey. No matter what you do. You could either be an complete asshole, a love, or a restless piece of shit. But they will come. Loves will leave you without saying a word. You won’t understand the world time by time. Then, from one second to another, you’ll get it all again.

There is no chance of healing those deads. That the bad news. The good? They come and go like a hungry pet. Even when you think- fuck, it was all so god damn good then- well, you are wrong. It wasn’t.

You look at old pictures of passed relationships. Wonder if you not as cool, not as smart, as funny, as self confident as you were once. Truth is: you will be a different one. But truth is too: you would be either with or without that relation. Because a relationship isn’t always what it’s called: relation. Too often you wondered if the other one even knows a single bit of who you are. You always wanted someone who searched for you, cared for you when you were together. But there didn’t come more than – waiting. The other one told you of it’s plans, of how he changed since you’re together… and that you are to calm. Speak to less.  But doesn’t recognise that you were talking for ours.

The split which will come (exept you are a fucking hollywood movie) is always good’n bad at the very same time. You will suffer like hell. Well, you’ll suffer anyway. But the other side is: no one gives you a hug when you suffer alone. But the inner dying, my love, will come anyway. Believe me. And it comes to nearly all of us. So don’t worry, just jump on this wave and learn surfing on it. Because you have yourself. All your life. Really. And thats for sure.

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