C'est La Vie
๐ต 2085 characters
โฑ๏ธ 3:55 duration
๐ ID: 23723983
๐ Lyrics
They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
I still remember the promise that you made to me when I was in Spain.
"You may not be able to trust other men, but you can trust me."
That was your first lie.
My drug of choice? That you don't do drugs.
How you always made me laugh when I was sad.
Our first kiss in your apartment, getting towed on Madison Street,
Your voice, your eyes, how you love to cook and throw parties.
Knowing your favorite color,
Listening to you do your laundry over the phone and being your safe space.
How you were my safe space.
How we both love outer space.
The way we pushed each other's buttons.
How you knew things about me that I didn't even know about myself.
We kept each other alive last winter.
Us.
One funny, minuscule word;
But between those two letters are two lifetimes of grief.
Two chasms of trauma.
Two webs of pain sprinkled with tears like dew.
Perhaps insurmountable, ever looming.
I know now that I caused a lot of it myself.
I'm beginning to be okay with that.
It's human.
Part of healing is taking responsibility for the role you play in your own suffering.
For so long, I was fearful of the pain I'd feel if I let you go,
Until I realized how much pain I was in just trying to hold on to you.
All the tears I've shed, all the time I've lost over the last decade,
all the overthinking that I've done, all the mistakes that I've made.
It taught me to never give my love out so freely again.
Thank you for being a part of that growth.
You showed me I deserve to be chosen and cherished despite my flaws.
You helped me become the woman that I am today,
And you reminded me of the type of woman that I will never be again.
I had to lose you to find me.
Everywhere I looked, I found rejection.
So I searched for any semblance of security that I could find in the people that I had left...
And I thought that you could rescue me.
I was wrong.
What came next?
Deep despair,
Suicidal thoughts,
Self-destruction.
I wish I could have trusted you.
But trustworthy people care about the way that they make you feel.
Thank God for Prozac.
I still remember the promise that you made to me when I was in Spain.
"You may not be able to trust other men, but you can trust me."
That was your first lie.
My drug of choice? That you don't do drugs.
How you always made me laugh when I was sad.
Our first kiss in your apartment, getting towed on Madison Street,
Your voice, your eyes, how you love to cook and throw parties.
Knowing your favorite color,
Listening to you do your laundry over the phone and being your safe space.
How you were my safe space.
How we both love outer space.
The way we pushed each other's buttons.
How you knew things about me that I didn't even know about myself.
We kept each other alive last winter.
Us.
One funny, minuscule word;
But between those two letters are two lifetimes of grief.
Two chasms of trauma.
Two webs of pain sprinkled with tears like dew.
Perhaps insurmountable, ever looming.
I know now that I caused a lot of it myself.
I'm beginning to be okay with that.
It's human.
Part of healing is taking responsibility for the role you play in your own suffering.
For so long, I was fearful of the pain I'd feel if I let you go,
Until I realized how much pain I was in just trying to hold on to you.
All the tears I've shed, all the time I've lost over the last decade,
all the overthinking that I've done, all the mistakes that I've made.
It taught me to never give my love out so freely again.
Thank you for being a part of that growth.
You showed me I deserve to be chosen and cherished despite my flaws.
You helped me become the woman that I am today,
And you reminded me of the type of woman that I will never be again.
I had to lose you to find me.
Everywhere I looked, I found rejection.
So I searched for any semblance of security that I could find in the people that I had left...
And I thought that you could rescue me.
I was wrong.
What came next?
Deep despair,
Suicidal thoughts,
Self-destruction.
I wish I could have trusted you.
But trustworthy people care about the way that they make you feel.
Thank God for Prozac.