in my sister's old bedroom.

it's not easy.

To say everything you want to say

At the exact time when you need to say it, to the people you want to hear it.

The thoughts and words only come together sporadically, in solitude.

And they never come out right, in the right moment.

So it's easier to just pretend nothing ever happened. It's easier to disregard that your whole world was just turned upside down, and it's on it's way back to that place.

Before you could recover from the last quake. Before you have time to brace yourself for the new one.

Because in-between, you're just pretending everything is okay.

Because what else are you supposed to do?

You don't want to believe how much someone can hurt you.

What they're capable of, or incapable of feeling.

When you'd wait years for them to come around.

But they don't hesitate a single second, to turn on you.