Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.

I hate returning to the scene of the crime. You know what i mean? That place you wished you’d never have to return to but as soon as you’re there all the memories rush into your head. It’s as if it’s a reoccurring nightmare, something you can never escape. Though you try as hard as you can to forget about what happen, it never seems to just settle and be forgotten. It hurts, pulls, and tears at your heart while you have nothing else to do but to solemnly think about the past hoping that the memories hastily pass over. The more I try to forget, the more memories come fluttering. All the sanity I contained is now released and im left with nothing but violent thoughts. I easily pull off the “I dont really care about it” attitude, yet im still within the predicament of a decision. Do I take what once was and make something of it or leave it like decided? Gahhh, if only you knew how much that meant to me. My graving is now an addiction. A scary addiction in which I can’t perform the activity without breaking my personal morals. If only, if only.