(via undo-my-scars)
“there were good parts of us. of you. i will always be the first to admit that. and sometimes, i find myself picking through our memories like old antiques you find in your grandparents’ basement. sometimes, i blow off the dust on the day we met, or the first time we kissed. i wipe the dirt from the moment i realized that i was in love with you, and the first time i said it out loud. i flip through our best times like old photo albums, listen to your laughter like it’s a dusty vinyl record. but i always end up sitting in front of the chipped china plates in the corner. the broken picture frames lining the shelves; our first fight, the first promise broken, and then lie, after lie, after lie. crack, after crack, after crack. i come back to the broken parts of us because i am not ready to acknowledge the good parts by themselves. i can’t trust myself to not stare at the shiny pieces for too long, to not forget about the chips and cracks on the other side of the room. one day, i won’t need to hold all our shattered pieces in my hand to know that they’re there, that they aren’t going away. one day, i will be able to put the record of your laugh on play without being afraid of forgetting how that laugh also broke my heart. one day, i will be able to sit there, and just listen.”— when i am finished healing / things you find in your grandparents’ basement -c.h. // instagram: @evanescent.love (via @poeticaffinity)
(via sad-old-soul)
