How come some people can move on and some cant. How come some hold all of that pain inside of them. The regret strangles them, and the fear of moving on or letting go or even giving in is simply crippling. How come some people can cut losses and start a new path so quickly. Are things easier for them?
What ever happens to the thinkers? The ones whose hearts can paint the mysterious portrait of the black night sky with only a single memory. Do they idly linger in the space between coming and going? Turning their confused minds right to left then back to right again. Do they not see the hope that the future promises?
How about the quiet ones. The ones that exist in the stillness harboring a bomb where their heart should be and an overly used brain that plays tricks on itself. Do they dream? The rage. The self destructive hatred towards themselves for not being able to fucking move. They must sleep with their eyes wide open because god forbid that blind love stares them directly in the face.
Open those pretty eyes you feeble bastard. Life awaits you
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