And it was such a common thing, the constantly being shoved down, that she became numb to it. She figured, Maybe this is it? Maybe everyone gets a happy ending, and I’m the exception? Or better yet, maybe this is my happily ever after? A broken love for a broken girl?
Is this the world I inhabit? The ones I want to tell everything to have gone deaf by the ears of someone else’s pain and can’t seem to hear anything except their own righteousness, and yet the people I’d rather not have imbedded in my memory can only seem to find the will to live from the secrets I harbor?