whenever i see these post-apocalyptic films set in the USA where everyone is pretty much just killing each other with no mention of other nations i always just assume that the rest of the world is fine and has learnt how to resume life as normal
It has been ten months since I told you I didn’t want to be with you and four since I told you not to contact me again. It’s five o’clock in the morning, I’m three thousand miles away, and I can’t stop crying.
It still hurts. Missing you still hurts so much. I still feel like I’m missing part of myself, like I can’t inhale all the way or the absence of you will send me spiralling into a panicked rabbit hole of memories and pain.
I just dreamt that you have died.
It’s a recurring dream, made scarier by the fact that I’ll never know if it’s a reality or not.
In my dream, I find out that you’ve drowned. A mutual friend finally decides to tell me and I spend the rest of the dream wailing in grief, coming to terms with your death and the fact that I’ll never see you again.
That’s the scary part. I’ll never see you again. And that part isn’t necessarily untrue, is it? I told you not to contact me. I’m sure you’ve moved on, because you’re you, after all. And here I am, painfully in love with you, on antidepressants because I can’t cope with not having you in my life, unable to connect with or love anyone else, almost a year later, dreaming that you’re dead and wanting to kill myself because I’ll never see you again.
There’s a huge part of me that’s holding on to you. That still believes we can go back to how we were. That still wants to wake up in our apartment with you in my arms. That still pictures you with your skinny hips and pierced nipples and short hair. That still remembers holding your hand, petting your hair, kissing your lips. That still cries every time I start to realize I’ll never experience what we were again.
I can’t let go. Still. I love you.
So far adulthood is just going grocery shopping, realizing you didn’t plan well or logically, going grocery shopping again, repeat ad infinitum. 0/10 stars, would not recommend
I still cry over you.
It’s been three months since we’ve spoken and I end most days conversing with you in my head.
God I miss you so much.