Confessing isn’t easy. It’s not meant to be, if you’re confessing you’ve fucked up. We’ve all had to do it. We’ve all had to face the gun behind our head and tell whoever it is we love that we’ve gone and fucked up. The pain of confessing can be repeated as much as anyone wants. Some people enjoy it, some people thrive on it, some people find attractive. That pain can be god awful, it can make you feel sorry for yourself more than you feel sorry for the person you’ve just inflicted this pain upon. 

All I can say is take what you learnt from confessing and use it, don’t be the asshole who fucks about with whoever you’re dating. Because deep down the end result is simply pain for both of you, as ironic as it is once she’s gone she might have been the one. You might fall in love with her after she’s gone and that’s it, she’ll dissapear into the vast world. Full of people who’ll get the happiness you once had with her, just know that.

Now I’m feeling nostalgic; writing this blog post, listening to Mother love bone, happy at the upcoming reissue of Temple of the dog’s self-titled and only album which is going to have seven demos, which is fucking great. 

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