Je ne pourrais faire la lumière sur ce que moi-même je n’arrive pas à voir. Avoir. C’est trop en étant pas assez.
Je ne peux pas savoir qu’est-ce que je veux. Toute ma vision était plaquée contre ce que je croyais inatteignable. Et à la ligne d’arrivée, je suis devenue aveugle. Qu’est-ce qui m’attend maintenant que tout ce que j’espérais s’est produit. Alors que je n’ai plus ce besoin de crier que je veux rêver. Can’t think of anything to wish for. I have everything. And nothing.
Dreams leading to hopes. Cause I’m sure they come first.
I’m not ready to cross the line. I’m sorry.
I wanted so much, so much, it was unbearable to hold it all inside. It bled all over my resolve and made me loose sight of the first dream I had.
I still think about how it was. But time has a funny way of misplacing memories. And what I miss is what I wanted to be there in the first place. What I build my dreams and hopes on. What had been dead and had killed me.
I should be happy. Don’t you think? Don’t you think I fucking deserve a little break. Emotionally. Out of breath. Times heals they say. But I’m afraid I’m creating new wounds all around a not quite formed scab. But nothing can keep me away from you. Even my tears, even your apologies. Even the bump in the door jamb. I’m sorry for not wanting more though. For keeping you a secret. For not being strong enough when needed.
But being sorry… is not an admission of anything… it does not mean… that I’m wrong.
J’adore.