An ache from a long- untended wound

This is one of the posts where i write, to sort out through my feelings.

Recently i tried to write a post in honor of my first love/heart break, i just didn’t realize how much it would break me, my intention was to write it as a way of healing or as a way of a closure but instead it opened up bad wounds untended to before

So here i am, doing what i know best: writing it out.

I believe the problem is, that i see things from a lens of hope and empathy, so i always deny the magnitude of pain caused to me by another person. Or sometimes i deny the pain altogether and focus on the good side of it am not sure whether it’s healthy or not.

Or maybe a tiny part of me hopes that maybe someday I’ll find him at my doorsteps remorseful.

Or maybe i like painting him in colors. Good ones. I always have.

I am in denial about what that love cost me.

While writing about all the happy times before the world caved in on us, on me, somehow i buried the bad stuffs, not allowing it to surface, i think that’s what caused the breakdown. the denial, of the years i cried alone at night asking myself countless questions, of doubting and blaming myself, the years i spent waiting for a chance to work it out. The years i wasted. The pain i caused the one’s that tried to love. The walls i built so high that not even i could penetrate through. The years i lost waiting, hoping for the impossible.

Just because you don’t blame someone for the hurt doesn’t mean the hurt wasn’t felt. That’s what i need to admit, that as much as i don’t blame anyone for the years of sorrow, i was sad and depressed and alone.

I need to admit out loud to myself and work on tending to the wounds.