Be honest.

You love him.
Can't imagine life without him.
He's your best friend,
the person you always run to...

But,

He doesn't' make you happy.
You've never felt sustained happiness in this relationship.

And moving to DC,
getting married,
having kids,

Isn't going to change that.

Look, I'm not telling you what to do,
because **** if I know myself,
but at least be honest with yourself.

He's never going to be the guy who calls the cable company to dispute his bill.

Through every little crack,

And into Spaces we thought were sealed,
Revealing Weaknesses we didn’t realize existed.

It fills us,

And expands.

Cracking us open, 

Separating us bit
,
By,

Bit.

This is the beginning of my end.

I know I'm good at faking it,
because my entire life is make-believe.
.

Thinking about you,
And not
You.

I'm obsessed with the gray space.

Obsessed with the east side.

With the jungle that grows inside what no longer
Is.

I always thought I was stronger than this, and it’s hard to come to terms with the fact that I’m just,

not.

When I get this way, I drive real slow.

Every turn is an ache.

I can’t remember the last time I blinked,

my body gets so still.

I can feel my fingertips tingle, every breath, every hair on my head, every little cell, becomes

quiet.

I go from despair, to anger, to

blank.

It’s hard to get out from under nothingness.
-----------
See, the problem is, I understand why you keep trying to **** yourself. And I understand that I have nothing to offer you. I understand that you are miserable, and don’t care about anyone or anything anymore.

But I don’t know how to come to terms with you just simply not

existing.

I don’t know how to justify asking you to stay, and I don’t know how to justify leaving you alone to that pitch black darkness inside of your skull.

I am sitting on the sidelines, and standing in the middle of your game all at the same time.

And I’m not doing a good job at either.
-----------
And on top of it all, I choked today.

That’s really what made me the most upset– giving in to my own sadness and closing myself off.

I just needed a hug.

I’m so strong, that I’m weak.

I rip the skin apart, picking and pulling strands of flesh off and into ribbons that curl around my finger tips.

I feel the cut, taste the metallic warmth in my mouth, see the bright red seeping between my teeth.

I take my finger nail and press it deeper into the cut.

It feels

hot.

dizzying.

There’s a white flash of pain,

that blesses me and makes my heart race,

makes my breath short.

I will continue to dig until I can find what I am looking to

pull out.

When you no longer want the life you’ve built for yourself?

Where do you hide?