is waking up. waking up to a world that no longer offers the warmth and beauty of a love that i drank in like fresh-squeezed orange juice.
now, waking up means again becoming conscious of the fact that our love didn't work, for either of us. becoming conscious of the fact that, in the end, i have noone but myself. becoming conscious of the fact that simon wasn't "it." i was supposed to have realized that back in january when he told me he couldn't be "in love" with anyone. i was supposed to have understood that this was just a stop on my journey, not my destination. but i loved him. i would have done anything to feel like he loved me too. i would have given anything. anythinganythinganythinganything. anything. i wanted him so. badly. to love like this is most definitely a form of torture.
i hate this.