u/FunnyPool9234

He's starting shit again.

I wish you were still here to make me feel safe.

It's hard to do anything without you.

I have NO IDEA how to navigate even the POSSIBILITY of dating again right now though.

They

Ain't

YOU. 😭

And what's worse, WHY isn't that a good thing in my fucked up little brain? Why do I still miss you? Why do you matter so damn much?

21 days until Atlanta, GA, y'all!!

I've had a couple people reach out to try to hang, but it seems like almost everyone is in seats. I'm going to be in the pit and want to meet up with some folks!

31F! Let's get wild, boy! XX

... But I still miss you, so very much. Others' appreciation seems hollow and disillusioned. My confidence is up, my drive for romance is down. I'm really just distracting myself- working too much, soaking up attention like a sponge, reading, watching the same shows I've seen over and over again.

I'm happy, but listless. Fulfilled, but lonely. Wistful, but not desperate. Everything is getting better, everything is running smoothly, there's no drama happening around me and no emergency to have as an excuse to call you for.

I just miss you babe. I know you're not coming back, but I don't see any future where I don't still see your face in my mind as perfectly as if I'd gazed upon it yesterday. I still hear your laugh in my half-awake, half-dreaming state sometimes, and it brings a smile to my face right before I register that I'll never hear it again. There are parts of you that I'll cherish somewhere deep within forever, and I hope that you know that somehow.

There's not a single sunrise where I don't wonder if you're looking at the same sky, and not a single sunset where I don't hope you're thinking of me, too.

I love you. And it could have been always.

Waiting for something that's never coming back is futile, and painful, so I won't.

But that doesn't stop me from wishing you'd find the solution to your internal struggle. That you'd call me and tell me you're sorry. That you love me as much as I love you, and that you'll show me better. That you were an idiot for leaving.

You made me question every moral I had. The things you've seen and done are things I couldn't ever live with having in my own life, and I know that now. All your secrets are safe with me, even though they haunt me when I close my eyes. You wanted a flower child, but one of us couldn't ever happily choose one of you, nor could you happily choose one of us. We are too different. I'm hardened, but it hasn't turned my moral compass backwards like it has yours. My energy is safe, while yours is chaos. I thought I could heal the parts of you that were ruined by circumstance, but I couldn't. I was your safe space, where I could enjoy all the gooiest, most sensitive parts of you, until one day you decided I wasn't. All those ugly truths of yours became more prevalent than the sweetness and tenderness that I had taken in and become accustomed to. Acts of service turned to acts of negligence, perfection turned to delusion and light turned to dark. There isn't any "sorry" that could accurately gloss over all that, but I'd still love to hear it. Maybe then I'd feel like what I still feel is warranted at all.

I'm putting one foot in front of the other, and every day has new happiness, new opportunities, new laughter to be had. But I still think of you when I see a bear, when I smell a sunflower, when I hear a guitar tuning, when I taste a perfectly roasted coffee.

There won't ever be another you, but, the me that existed before you is gone, too. I'm sure that when I love again, it'll be a different love, because the love I had for you was one of a kind, just like you. I see all you could be, even if you can't. Your lost potential is the most poetic tragedy in all of this. You have such a beautiful soul that your mind is determined to destroy. But it's up to you, love, not me. The answers you're looking for aren't online, aren't in new misdeeds, aren't in the company you keep. They're within you, but they're so frightening to the armor you've built that you wouldn't dare entertain them. Life isn't as hard as you're making it. Just breathe.

What we had could have been so easy. It's a loss I'll carry with me for a long time. The soul I love is real, but he's shrouded in a mind that's been broken by the world's treachery, his own sins mirroring those he hated most. Unseen illness ravages the most beautiful body I've ever laid my hands on. Life killed you. I performed CPR on a cadaver that was no longer inhabited, and the failure that wasn't mine to carry almost killed me too.

I love you. I did not come out of this untouched.

I saw a quote today that said something along the lines of "you weren't special, my love is what made you special." It resonated, just not in the standard way.

You are special. You are unique. You're so fucking smart it's almost intimidating. But none of that is a decent enough excuse for the love I still hold for you. After everything, I should hate you. I do feel deceived, I do feel let down. It all coexists with missing you, loving you, wishing you well, wanting to see you again but knowing I shouldn't.

Love is so fucking complicated. But the thing is, you're not my last love.. because if you were, it wouldn't be so hard. The love I gave you will eventually be appreciated by someone else. One day I won't be dreaming of your hair in my face, those beautiful eyes that held so many secrets, the way you tasted, the carnal happiness when I smelled myself on your skin.

One day, I'll be building with someone else, and I won't wish it was you any longer.

That day isn't today.