Breeze

All I want is to curl up in a ball and cry, and I can’t even afford to do that.

Do you ever get this feeling when you want to genuinely thank someone who hurt you deeply? And not in a snarky bitter sort of way. In a I’m-grateful-you-were-the-reason-why-I-am-who-I-am-today.

I can’t though, and it’s alright. I know because I am no longer vengeful or miserable. I know because I don’t want to rub anything in anybody’s face. I know because I can’t identify with the base human feelings I should be feeling right now at all.
What seemed extremely wounding at the time turned out to be the best gift I’ve ever given myself. You think you know it all but you’re just never prepared enough for life’s little quirks.

I’ll be forever indebted to your shortcomings. 
Thank you.

dictionaryofobscuresorrows:

n. a moment that seemed innocuous at the time but ended up marking a diversion into a strange new era of your life—set in motion not by a series of jolting epiphanies but by tiny imperceptible differences between one ordinary day and the next, until entire years of your memory can be compressed into a handful of indelible images—which prevents you from rewinding the past, but allows you to move forward without endless buffering.