The morning after.


What do you do when you wake up one morning only to realize your nightmare wasn’t actually a nightmare? It actually is reality, the bitter truth. Waking up to that, stings. Every bone within you formulates questions. Questions that make you wonder if what you have always believed in even holds? Do they even hold any truth? Partial truth at the very least? Or do they just stem from sketches of your own make-belief reality? Of love and life. If maybe you might have been wrong in being so gullible and accepting things at surface level.  That sometimes even the nice turn bad. You just chose to believe otherwise. You chose to see the good in people that you turn a blind eye to underlying issues that need to be fixed. What do you do when your fundamentals get shaken? What do you when walking away crosses your mind? When your rock, your constant, deserts you?

I run.

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