So i relapsed, i crawled back to him after one simple phone call because his arms felt like home and God knows, how much i felt like a stranger in my own skin.

Then came the worried messages from friends, the many interventions, the disappointments written all over their faces but i brushed them all aside, i'm finally fucking happy can't you see?

one week, that's all i got. one week of unadulterated happiness, one week of feeling like life was finally right again, one week of iloveyous and iwillneverletyougoagain.

but storms were brewing and i couldn't shake off the feeling of inadequacy and insecurities and fear and history repeated itself, like it always does, and now it's over.

6am, and all i could think of was can i please stop hurting now but a friend called and told me to let it hurt for as long as i needed it to.

so this time i won't, i won't race against time to seek the comfort of another stranger's arms, i will let it hurt and let the pain wash out the love that i have for him.

and when it does, he can't use it against me anymore, he won't hurt me anymore.