Never been good at interpreting silence. I hate that kind of silence, the one that does not preced a violin, a guitar line or a piano solo. We do all we can to remain safe, to not be vulnerable, until we forget what it is to get hurt and then we open up and regret it soon. A little too late. Ain´t life a bitch sometimes?
Do not regret! you might have found failure, but you have an experience, put it in your bag with all the other failures and carry it around, limping, looking down, until next time you are brave and fool enough to put yourself out there for nothing.
You will still be standing, that is for sure, the scars will not take you down, they will only make you uglier, probably colder, with an unstable mind, longing for comforting arms to wrap you around in sleepless nights, in anxiety, when your throat feels like a knot, your eyes look teary and your lungs feel colder than an ice cream treat in the freezer.
Get the fuck over it.
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