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Starting All Over Again

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I can’t wait to start over.

And I mean not to forget about things but to keep them, and then move forward. To hold again without worrying that it doesn’t fall short or that it doesn’t grip hard enough. Without making sure someone has to hold tightly as I do or to feel the same just as much. Because by then I’ll know that holding someone’s heart doesn’t have to feel as though you are meant to keep things great, and happy, and altogether.

I can’t wait to start all over again. And I mean, to continue hurting but without feeling as though you aren’t good enough. To make space for mistakes just so to allow learnings and growth. To look forward and to look back just because they both mean so much as to what is here now.

I want to fall inlove on my own. And not just because of some grand gestures, sweet nothings and warmth.

To allow myself to space out, be inlove with all that there is and all that there is none. To me, with what I do, with how I feel and all the days I keep rewinding thoughts in my head. Over and over, recounting every detail just to know the truth.
Because the only truth there is, is you.

How every little thing touches your heart or what tomorrow means like for you. What your dreams are made of or how you want love to touch you all over again. Because there’s no other way to know but to hold on to your truth, and that’s why it’s so beautiful.

Because your truth allows you to start over again.

To set a different meaning this time, to allow your heart to look in a different direction, to stare at people’s eyes a little bit longer. To cry and laugh without the rush, to treasure the meaning of every words that come across you.

To fall inlove without needing to say the word. To feel alive with every page and to travel to every place without having to set foot.

To start, all over again.
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