You will not be younger. You will not be more innocent. You will not be more popular.
Lean into the rubble. Sit on the floor of your half-empty apartment. Walk alone through the city at midnight. Cry in your car. Let the old self dissolve like a sugar cube in hot tea.
You will be yours . And that is infinitely better. If you are reading this right now, sitting in your own metaphorical grocery store parking lot, feeling the walls of your old life crumbling around your ears, let me tell you what no one else will:
You will not be younger. You will not be more innocent. You will not be more popular.
Lean into the rubble. Sit on the floor of your half-empty apartment. Walk alone through the city at midnight. Cry in your car. Let the old self dissolve like a sugar cube in hot tea.
You will be yours . And that is infinitely better. If you are reading this right now, sitting in your own metaphorical grocery store parking lot, feeling the walls of your old life crumbling around your ears, let me tell you what no one else will: