It’s easy to fuck.
What is hard is showing your weak, ugly self.
And what is even harder is sharing your most beautiful parts, and asking someone to hold them safe.
It’s easy to fuck.
What is hard is finding someone who makes you want to become brave, and risk taking off your armour.
And what is even harder is realising that they weren’t the right one, despite what your heart told you.
How can a heart be wrong?
It’s easy to fuck.
What is hard is learning to fight your battles without creating casualties of you both, trying to become a soft place for the other to land should they need.
And what is even harder is owning all your failures, including overlooking how unhappy they were.
How can we miss seeing the person closest to us?
It’s easy to fuck.
What is hard is picking up your pieces and moving on, trying to gather up everything as to not leave any traces.
And what is even harder is knowing that they’ll always have pieces of you, just another story added to the pile.
It’s easy to fuck.
What is hard is realising that no matter how much you hope, some people only have the capacity for easy.
And what is even harder is accepting that’s not you.
