i’m not alright
I’m not okay
someone bring me five blunts, four bottles of wine, three pizzas, two cigarettes and one fucking person who will treat me right because I’m sick and fucking tired of being used and getting my god damn heart broken time and fucking time again.
It will take about 7 hours but I could do my best.
why is it so wrong to fall for me?
There is a force, called a “God” or “spren,” that operates by the Old Magic in the book I’m reading. She is called the Nightwatcher.
I mention her because in the book, one of the main characters seeks her out in the West. He had lost his wife you see, and grieved for her. Men tell tales of the Nightwatcher. You seek her out and tell her what you wish of her, and if she decides to, she will provide you what you ask, a boon. She also curses you, the other side of the bloody coin. She gives you, no more and no less, than what she thinks you deserve.
He wanted to forget the pain. It consumed him and he didn’t want that pain anymore. He asked to forget. He got his wish and no more. From there on, he couldn’t remember his wife. Not one single detail. Even her name was taken from him, filled by a gap. He remembered that he had a wife, remembered the effort it took to get her and the chase. No feelings or memories though, he couldn’t even recall her face.
For a while, for a part of me, that’s what I wanted. To be able to forget and forgive. Do you know which his curse is and which is the boon? I don’t. There’s only one thing I would trade my memories for, my feelings. You’re the only thing I would trade those for. The ability to do it all over again, to fall in love without fear. To have what we had, to feel what we felt.
Anything to make you smile. You made me believe in angels. Not the kind with wings, not the kind with halos, but the ones that bring you home.