There’s a strange emptiness inside me that I can never seem to explain. I keep trying to fill it with people, memories, dreams, distractions, anything that might make me feel whole again. But somehow, every time I think I’ve finally found something that could stay, the emptiness finds another place to hide. Maybe that’s the hardest part — realizing that no matter how much I fill my life, there’s still a quiet part of me that feels like something is missing.
هرچقدر منو از خونه دور کنن بازم برمیگردم بهش