She found an old notebook she used to write her in. Memories came flooding down for the times she went to her for validation. Old laughs and smiles shared through connected hearts that only they knew of. The thorns thrown with treacherous gazes never found the light of day when she was with her - for the reassurance, the compliments.
Setting the notebook aside, she gases at the mirror in front of her. She realized why she never felt happy, fulfilled, with the connections she tried to make. The friendships she tried to forge. She always went to herself, the comfort of her own voice being her only friend. Perhaps it was a good thing if she really knew herself, but what about her relationships?
She then picked up a pen, letting the ink flow her thoughts out of her mind. "It is true that you should love yourself", she wrote, "but, is it really worth the definition of being the only one you can rely on? Probably not. Making connections - it feels like chance - and it is worth the chances. Not every person you meet is a thorn. Not every person you meet gives out poison. But honey: friendships of gold are for you to find. For you to connect to. And once you do, the memories you have with yourself will become real memories too."
A smile crept upon her lips as she read through the words, ready to give a chance to this new reality. [bf_image id="qnxhnvrjf4v7h7x42pjwhrgh"]