cherylanne.net

There are mornings when I wake up wishing to go back to the time where I was naive, where I was blissfully ignorant. I cannot help but feel a tinge of sadness when I look at my ambivalence, my insensitivity. It hurt more, but I experienced some form of pleasure from that pain, some exquisite and indescribable feeling, and sometimes I think it’s better to feel than to not.