I’m not sure if I can be myself anywhere any more.

I don’t have that freedom anymore.

The freedom that you gave me.

Everywhere I go, I am like a dandelion between beautifully blooming red velvet roses. I never stay.

I never meant to leave you, though.

With you, I could be myself. With a sad face, dry joke, sharp tongue and my sarcastic remarks. I could be myself and you never minded it.

I loved you for that, and I hate you for that right now. Just because no one else allows it.

And I miss it so badly. Every day.

And I hate myself because I cannot come back to where I was, and I cannot appreciate what I have right now.

I am on a hamster wheel made of my memories and photographs of your face, and I simply cannot step down.

Constant running makes me sick to my stomach. It makes me exhausted.

I wish I could come back to my life where there was no you in it. So that I would have never found out what I am. Coz, really, what was the point if it was brutally taken away from me?

One thought on “Dandelion

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