I miss you tremendously.

More than I should. More than I would ever wish to, more than what is proper, more than I can withstand.

There’s a noose around my neck and if I could vomit thought, I would drown in the recesses of ideas and convoluted nonsense, metaphors for restless sadness and epitomes of heartache.

But I was never breathing, always choking, inhaling stale oxygen. Stepping on the overpass, verging upon impact with the earth floor.

I have to find a way to let this go. I can’t let this continue to kill me. But how can I overcome it when I can’t get closure?

I don't feel numb at all. I feel dead. Hollow. Defeated as fuck and crushed. And I still care. I care to the tiniest bits of existence. I care and it doesn't fucking matter. I'm so naive and overly sensitive and fragile. It's stupid.

As a child, I frequently had asthma attacks, sending me to the hospital. I would cry out, whimpering as I did, “My heart hurts.” I feel a heavy twisting amongst my heartstrings that is weighing me down, gutting me continuously. My heart hurts, but it isn’t asthma. My heart hurts and it's because of you.

Blend in with the wall. It is better this way. Words formed from her lips can’t slice skin and deeds done by him will not reach here. It is better to be unseen. Stitched lips leave remarks concealed and skin healed.  

Never let anyone get close: Advice to myself that I have failed to follow. The knife slices me every time I fail to follow this, and find myself alone, adorning stitches born from wretched emptiness. Vulnerability is scary. Terrifying. Every time I allow a person to enter my world and become a piece of my life, I am returned with abrasions and afflictions.  With attachment follows abandonment and that is something I should never forget. Nothing lasts. Those who can hurt you, inevitably will. I foolishly allowed myself to believe that maybe I was worth a small while. Foolish indeed, because everyone leaves.

If I meant anything to you, then you wouldn’t allow the events to turn this way. You wouldn’t let me slip away. You would wonder, try to reach me, or show a ounce of concern. But you don’t. Because I never meant anything. Everything ends, everyone leaves. I was foolish to believe it could be any other way. I am nothing.

Ideas, or at least, pieces of ideas, swim inside my mind. Everything is so disorganized and out of reach. I’ve been pulling at figments of yesterday for ages now it seems, but the world around me is so fragile and grains of life fall through my hands like sand. The sea crashes against my memories, submerging me in tangles of what should have been.