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2015-12-06 04:26:51

    i. I’ll say it once and once only. You don’t need him. Sure, it was nice to be touched, to feel love spilled upon your skin by tender fingertips. But you don’t need him. ii. You’ll soon forget what it was like to match your breath with his. To exist under the same sky doesn’t mean you belong together. You’ll come to realize there are better things to hope for than clinging to someone who has lost all hope. iii. The days will get easier. The nights too. One day you’ll find yourself laughing in bed alone, reading a book or watching some show, and you’ll be taken back by how easy it was to laugh without him. iv. You’ll meet new people after a while. And not even potential “lovers”. You’ll just meet new people who show you a different world. These are the people you need, dear. They will open your eyes to different views, different everything. v. One day you’ll wake up and wonder when you last thought about him. Really thought about him. And you won’t be able to pinpoint a day or even a specific memory. By that time, you’ll have realized that some stars only shine for a short time, and your sky should never been home to too many of those. vi. And then one day, far in the future you’ll read an old entry in your journal. A page scratched with his name. And you’ll smile—boy, will you smile. Because some of the greatest people enter your life before it’s time. But it doesn’t matter the length of one’s stay, but of what they leave behind when they go. vii. And when you find the right constellation that fits perfectly in your sky, lighting your life in all the right ways, you’ll laugh at the desperation of needing ones before it. Because short-lived or not, they gave you light to grow. And you mustn’t regret those.

    —T.L. Jeffers, the lives of stars you’ll let in your sky over time (via the-redefined-definition)