I’ve always thought that people enter your life for a reason.
That they wouldn’t exist in your immediate surroundings if they weren’t meant to teach you some kind of epic life lesson, as though each person tells a new tale, and weaves themselves a chapter that makes the entire story beautiful.
The good, the bad, and the ugly; it’s all meant to be.
And that’s why it hurts, because agony is merely a treasury trove of memories and happiness is fleeting but the people who cause both will forever mark your heart.
They remain inscribed inside the crevices of your heart, forever tiny little letters that cause you to skip a beat every time they are said out loud.
People are merely a passageway to your ultimate exhilaration, to a happiness that’s forever and a settling that you can only dream about.
Yet we give them too much importance. We forget that everyone is indispensable, a sort of trading system; in with the old, out with the new. And just as you recycle yourself, new people fit like puzzle pieces and leave you moments you can never forget.
They do not make you. You must remember that what they do or say to you, hardly makes you who you are. It’s never who you are.
You make yourself. Nobody else can take that away, and nobody else should, it is a right that has been burnt into your soul. Never let anyone take away who you are.
Stop destroying yourself to make everyone happy, it’ll never bring anything but despair.