Before, looking back at every laugh, every touch, every memory lifted my spirit while simultaneously pulling it down with the thought that they may be the last of their kind. Remiscing was a beautiful method of snapping my heart in two, tracing painful lines down the middle. Now I see every moment we spent together but I can't remember the way they felt. I don't remember the joy or the beauty in them. Every memory is tained, poisioned with the knowledge that its over and these snippets of the past are worthless. That's what gets me the most, there is no pain, there are no tears, there is no emotion left in a relationship that was once so full of love. We just drifted away. We lost our spark. Okay bye.

Maybe I gave up too easily, maybe I didn't fight hard enough for us but then again by the end what was there to fight for?

Ignore - Personal You're not the same person I once knew, you're not who I fell in love with. The person in those texts was not you.

You're Not Always Beautiful You're not always beautiful, sometimes you won't get up for days and you stink and you're hair needs a wash. You're not always kind, sometimes you're a right bitch because you shut people out and attack them when they try to talk to you. You're not always funny, sometimes you drone on and on for hours about something completely uninteresting. Sometimes you're not good natured. You can be stubborn and fly off the handle as soon as someone criticised one tiny thing. But I love you regardless and I will stay with you no matter what. I don't care about all this, you are worth all that. And that is a better compliment than saying you're beautiful because sometimes are. Sometimes you are stunning but I will love you even when you're not.

Conductor Not sure if anybody watches BBC Sherlock but this is about Moriarty. He is not an orchestra, he is the conductor. He gives the musicians the sheet music and dictates when and how to play it. All eyes are fixed on him, yet he often goes entirely unnoticed by the audience. He simply tilts his head or flicks his wrist and stirring melodies erupt from the players. He is the centre point, the eye of the storm, the spider in his web. Everything revolves around him, like planets orbiting the sun or moths drawn to a flame. He is the#moonthat controls the oceans roar and calm. If he continues then this relentless torture will continue, but if he were to disappear then all chaos would break loose.