danielamorenov

[danielamorenov]

Me siento sola ..

[danielamorenov]

A veces si me gustaría ser ella.

[danielamorenov]

Ya no puedo hacer esto, los pedazos que me quedaban se convirtieron en polvo, ya no hay nada mas que hacer aquí.

[danielamorenov]

Me desperté con el corazón un poquito roto

[danielamorenov]

Siento muchas ganas de terminar con mi vida, pero no tengo ganas de hacer sentir mal a las personas que tengo cerca.

[danielamorenov]

Se que estoy jodida porque aquí estoy de nuevo

[danielamorenov]

Yo ya casi no te amo, pero la otra persona que te escribía textos largos, esperaba tus mensajes, que adoraba tus ojitos hermosos, que te dedicaba todas las canciones que le recordaban a tí, que era feliz incluso si sólo te veia cinco segundos y lloró por tí cada una de las noches después de que decidiste irte, te amaba con toda su vida.

-Gabs

[danielamorenov]

I refuse to believe what we had was love.

You don’t drop the people that you love,

And you fucking threw me to the ground.

— written by tlm

[danielamorenov]

Putas canciones tristes

[danielamorenov]

¿Cuando se irá todo mi dolor? Estoy tan cansada de sentirme así

[danielamorenov]

Triste una noche más ..

[danielamorenov]

“I wonder when exactly it happened. When the cracks in the foundation turned into something we could no longer bridge with words or actions. When we started doing the bare minimum for each other and felt like it was enough. It was kind of validating, wasn’t it? Liberating, in a way. The occasional checking in, the questions that were asked without any real intentions behind them. The guilt that was lifted off our shoulders every time we decided to swallow our pride. How are you? Fine. What have you been up to? Not much, you? How’s work? Okay. We didn’t ask because we cared, not for the past months. We were following routines, a play, a dance we knew every step to. Both of us ignoring the truth we’d understood a while ago: we’re not what we used to be and we will never be that to each other again. And at some point, we just stopped asking altogether. The more I think about it, the more I figure out that the breaking was no fixed point in time, but a process. There was no argument. No falling out - only the slow and painful realisation that I‘d been wrapping my fingers around something that was long gone. A shadow. A memory. A ghost. I know what I would answer if you reached out to me again. How are you? Kind of sad. What have you been up to? Missing you and everything we used to be - what can we do to find our way back to each other? But you don’t ask. And I don’t ask, either.”

— radio silence / n.j.

[danielamorenov]

I’m so fucking tired

[danielamorenov]

I just feel empty

[danielamorenov]

I don’t know how to feel about it anymore

[danielamorenov]

“I wanted so badly to talk to you. We’d gone from speaking every day to radio silence. What could I say though? Nothing I wrote felt right. Besides, did you even want to hear from me? Anyways, it felt selfish of me to reach out for my own comfort. All I could do is hold my breath and find my own kind of closure.”

— Will we speak again? // 9.30.2021

[danielamorenov]

Enamórate de alguien más, reemplázame ..