Hell is seperation from love.
hell seperation love
I mentally bless and exonerate anyone who has kicked a chair out from beneath her or swallowed opium in large chunks. My mind has met their environment, here in the void. I understand perfectly.
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Any way I slice reality it comes out poorly, and I feel an urge to not exist, something I have never felt before; and now here it comes with conviction, almost panic. I mentally bless and exonerate anyone who has kicked a chair out from beneath her or swallowed opium in large chunks. My mind has met their environment, here in the void. I understand perfectly.
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In so many senseless deaths, beauty is to blame.
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When you part from your friend, you grieve not; For that which you love most in himmay be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climberis clearer from the plain.
friendship grief seperation
Time doesn't take away from friendship, nor does separation.
friendship time seperation
Delusion detests focus and romance provides the veil.
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I saw my reflection in their eyes, but not the men themselves, not clearly. This preserved the idea that all intelligent and even vaguely attractive men were essentially good. Delusion detest focus and romance provides the veil.
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It had all seemed as inevitable as sunset. Instead it was the beauty of the sun glinting upon the scythe.
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Marriage creates one world for your child. For that alone, two old friends can try to see a peaceful world through the eyes of their angels.
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Once that ship has sailed don't hold on to the anchor
relationships divorce seperation
The only constant in our marriage is the edge of the cliff we're hanging on to, killing time until we tire ourselves out and give in to our inevitable collapse.
marriage sad seperation
Such silence has an actual sound, the sound of disappearance.
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Already things are changing; it´s starting with small shit but oh it´s starting, the change, the irrevocable, impossible change.
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A heart can stop beating for a while, one can still live.
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Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Because for those who love with heart and soul there is no such thing as separation.
soul heart seperation
Daily I walk around my small, picturesque town with a thought bubble over my head: Person Going Through A Divorce. When I look at other people, I automatically form thought bubbles over their heads. Happy Couple With Stroller. Innocent Teenage Girl With Her Whole Life Ahead Of Her. Content Grandmother And Grandfather Visiting Town Where Their Grandchildren Live With Intact Parents. Secure Housewife With Big Diamond. Undamaged Group Of Young Men On Skateboards. Good Man With Baby In BabyBjörn Who Loves His Wife. Dogs Who Never Have To Worry. Young Kids Kissing Publicly. Then every so often I see one like me, one of the shambling gaunt women without makeup, looking older than she is:
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Bushwhacked, I examine my hands. Same hands. Rings still there but no longer valid.
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It´s like watching someone do a triple backflip dismount and land on two feet, solid, arms splayed in the air. I know I could never do it, don´t even know where I would begin to learn, but some people are built for it. He was handcrafted to leave, had practiced on other women since adolescence. I was one of an unnumbered series.
Soon he was online every night until one or two a.m. Often he would wake up at three of four a.m. And go back online. He would shut down the computer screen when I walked in. In the past, he used to take the laptop to bed with him and we would both be on our laptops, hips touching. He stopped doing that, slipping off to his office instead and closing the door even when A was asleep. He started closing doors behind him. I was steeped in denial, but my body knew.
I travel back in time, falling back into what I know for certain, the historical data I cling to in order to not go mad, not assume I made a suicidal and well-informed error in marrying this man.
I am not ready to think of him as either insane or evil, to consider in full how I could love and have a child with such a person. I am not ready to think about anything, except ways in which this may still be averted.
I feel angry but not homocidal; this may be unlooked-for progress.
I should have known then it wasn´t, as he called it. But I was eight months pregnant. No sense closing the barn door now, or so I thought. I swallowed the, straightaway after the usual tears and denial.
I played possum. I did this, as the possum does, out of fear.
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