I think you still love me, but we can’t escape the fact that I’m not enough for you. I knew this was going to happen. So I’m not blaming you for falling in love with another woman. I’m not angry, either. I should be, but I’m not. I just feel pain. A lot of pain. I thought I could imagine how much this would hurt, but I was wrong.
― Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun (via loveless-people)
well well well. if it isn’t my old friend, the dawning realization that i fucked up real bad
I have 206 bones, 1200 muscles, about 21 organs, 4,5 litres of blood running around, 32 teeth and a soul… and I still feel empty when you’re not here.
― m.o (s-altatori)