11:11
it's 11:11 and i'm no longer wishing for you. the day has finally come and you're no longer a memory haunting me every night, keeping me awake with the "what ifs" and the "could have been's" this isn't one of those false alarms where i think i'm finally over you but at 2 am i find myself crying on the bathroom floor wondering why the hell i wasn't good enough for you. you knew i was fragile but you fucking dropped me anyways. it's sad to think that because of you the majority of my teenage years were spent trying to survive rather than actually living. fuck you, i'm worth it and fuck you for making me think for the slightest second that i'm not. if you asked me how i'm doing i would say i'm doing just fine, and this time, i wouldn't be lying.
