*******

"To think of that heart and that soul and that body in the eyes and arms of another is utter mental chaos. From every minor to major perfection, every flaw; I saw it all. Every little purity; Every inch of you. Every motion of your body and expression of your face, I noted it all. I remembered it all. I drew it. I viewed every side of your personality and your body and your soul more intimately than I could ever begin to describe. I just wish to wake up and see it all another day and relish in the idea that I see and feel what no-one else could possibly begin to imagine."


I could keep writing all this shit that's running through my head, but it will get me nowhere. It never has. I continue to relentlessly assault my status updates because I have no other way of thinking, no other way of dealing. None of it will help. I can't get my head around the idea of potential permanent loss of something that I was so adamant on keeping for as long as humanly possible. I keep telling myself I'll get that phone call to come over and stay the night and wake up like nothing had ever happened.

I hate every minute of this.

I hate every minute I write down more of this bullshit.

I want to delete it all.

I hate how childish and empty I feel; how weak this has made me.

But here it is--still going, still out in the open.

All I can think to ask is, "Why?"


I miss your skin.

I miss your smell, the one you "never had".

The way the corner of your lips curled when you smiled.

Your laugh, especially at its most obnoxious points.

How you'd wake up in the middle of the night and put your arm around me and kiss my back, waking me for that simple, mindless fucking second of silent, post-dream perfection.

How big and endlessly beautiful your eyes are.

Every goddamn detail.


I put 100%+ energy into every day that I spent with you, what the fuck am I supposed to do?

None of this helps. I know that.

People and your friends can laugh at and judge the way I'm dealing with this, how fucking hard this hurts, how hard I loved you, how much I miss you. But for all I care, if that's the way it is, then whatever, fuck it. Fuck them. I'm not looking from sympathy from anyone. Especially people who can't even give me the time of day any given day of the year, let alone back off when they may or may not have decided to trod on something they shouldn't have.

But I can't help myself.

I have the mentality that I can always salvage things.
Save things. Save people. Fix everything.
Make everything okay in the end, and I feel utterly helpless and useless.
Maybe I think that you'll open your eyes. Maybe not now. Soon, perhaps.
Somewhere down the road, I hope.


I don't want to find myself without you in my life. I always thought that would be a part of growing together, living each day on our own but together at the same time.

I'm sorry I don't have the, "Ah, fuck it," attitude like everyone else in this city seems to have.

Apparently I think too much. Maybe I love too much. I don't know.

I feel sick to my stomach.


Goodnight.