The night that broke me. The day I wanted to end it. The day I promised I wouldn't do it again, that I wouldn't leave like that. But I'd be lying, if I say that I didn't have these thoughts again. That there haven't been moments where I regret not following through with it. The biggest lie would be to say that there wasn't another attempt, which even went further, even tho I promised not to. But when every promise that has been made towards me, has been broken, do my promises hold any weight? Can there be something genuine and true and meaningful? Or were all those words just empty? 

I'm trying to be hopeful. But I'm scared of hoping. Of believing. Of trying, while I'm getting backstabbed. 

I don't know, I'm writing nonsense. The night is hard. The flashbacks are hitting harder than usual. I'm trying to find a light in the dark, a sign that hope isn't lost.