it’s so funny how heartache is synonymous with depression, we wish we could say this was different. it wasn’t, until the good days come back. until you find them yourself. by yourself or with a friend or with your family or with your dog, even. you aren’t dead, you aren’t missing a limb, in most cases, no one died - not in this case, either. so get your ass out of bed, stop being ridiculous, it’s not bad to feel, its not bad to hurt, its not bad to feel nostalgic, and god dammit its not a fucking crime to miss someone. so miss your person, experience nostalgia, hurt, feel, but don’t forget to get your ass up and back into the real world. the real world. the real world. the real world. look around, open your eyes, realize for every bad moment you’ve had in your life there is always going to be someone who’s had it worse. when people say that they usually mean that your feelings aren’t valid. that’s not whats being said here. whats being communicated is the need for life. the need to live. fuck. things hurt, things feel good, things get missed, things get pushed away sometimes so far you never know how to get them back. know one thing (or hell, maybe a few)…convince your heart, and tell your soul until it believes you: nothing is easy, anything worth the fight won’t ever be perfect, and anything that makes you sad once upon a time, also made you happy - if it was ever real at all, you felt it. good or bad.
none of this even makes any sense. whatever.