I’ve said everything there is to say. Everything. I don’t know what combination of words that remains, that could possibly sum up what it really, truly feels like to still love someone who left me over a year ago.
I wish I was dead.
I hate that love isn’t real. I fucking hate that it doesn’t exist. It’s yet another fucking lie we’ve all been lead to believe in and place worth in by cinematic grandeur. But it’s fake and it’s empty and it’s a hopeless thing to pursue and I don’t fucking understand what it is that I feel for fucking anyone when NO ONE feels it for me.
I wish I had never seen you. I wish I had never, ever, laid eyes on you. I wish I had never fallen in love with anybody at all.
i thought of you, while in the shower
and i thought of how nice it’d be
to have your things among my things
along the bathtub’s edge
and i imagined myself running out of soap
and using yours
and wearing you to work, and the grocery store
and i imagined that night, laying down beside you
and smelling your neck
and finding out where all my soap had gone