By the time we reach our mid-20s it’s easy to consider each and every one of us damaged goods in some capacity.
What if our new suitor discovers our past?
Truly knows who we were...
before we became half of the us we now find ourselves in???
From sharing numbers to discussing why we’re so bitter...
the past still exists
behind that door we’d rather keep closed.
Bring on the bolts.
But that door is both an exit
and an entrance.
And I'll always believe that it's better to feel something...
(however disappointing it may be)
than nothing at all.
Because we're still good.
Despite all that damage.