I love him with every part of my broken heart. That includes the missing pieces, the stains of blood, the fresh wounds and the horrible scars. How can that be possible?
It's like I'm turning into a masochist.
I still love him like I can put up with any kind of hell.
But then again, I'm just not ready.
Whenever my beautiful home becomes a crazy wreck and my family momentarily turns into an absolute dysfunction, I wish I can shift into a monster that I was in my past. The old impulsive and rebellious me would run away in an instant, never look back and just be reckless & messy. I'd probably be with him right now if it was the case.
But I am different person now. I was changed when I became a mother. I was changed when I got broken.
I want to be with him for the right reason,too..not because the immature me wants to escape from anything and everything. Not because I want to cure pain with another pain.
Not because I love him.
Love isn't really enough. Never.
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