I talk to my therapist about a hypothetical girl.
but you’re not hypothetical at all.
I talk to my therapist about the good feelings more than the bad and I talk about how I think you got away.
My therapist talks to me.
She thinks i’m in an
emotionally abusive relationship
i think she could be right
Then I think about you and how you are only a dream now. but
I talk to my therapist about you.
My karmic may have ruined my twin flame connection.
the angels have confused me but maybe because it was in your name.
she gave me the world and I left her with nothing near a goodbye to abide by you who stripped me down to nothing once again and left me with nothing and no one.
you took every little light that flickered inside me and smothered them until they were no more.
Then you told me how much you wished I was the old me,
but You killed her.
I’d go to say that i’m happy, retrospectively.
But now I question why I still ponder the what if’s.
I think about if I was wrong to listen to the “angels” and to look up every number.
i got nervous when you started becoming her number
I questioned if you were an imposter. but now i’m unsure who the imposter truly is.
Karmic or twin flame.
I do know that I cannot write when I am with her. the only time words flood my brain is when I think of a life outside of her. I can’t figure out if it is a good or bad thing.
I still think about you. and I wish sometimes. I wish I was more certain. about anything really.
I kinda hope you see this and know I have not forgotten. I wish to catch you up on all that’s happened these past few months.
I hope you’re happy. I hope you’re loved. I hope you’re successful. cause despite my splitting and running, you never did me wrong and no one in this world besides strangers could claim that.
I still think about you.
and we’re back again.
in a sense.
I told you I was in love with you.
I can’t forget that you haven’t said it back.
you taste like cancer
and are equally as bad for me.
so why am I up in tears,
tasting you again,
To the few people i've given away my secrets to:
The moments I spilled my truth to you, the fragile flame I call hope had finally emerged from the deepest cracks I call me, and cried for help.
I don’t do it for attention.
Okay maybe i do it for “attention” but when you call help “attention” it makes it feel wrong.
I remember when I realized she was telling on us.
i know when I walk late at night and the quieted light I call life, inside me, flickers weakly and posts my 2, 3, 4am walks for anyone to see
she is screaming for help
I realized one day those walks were filled with hope of an inevitable demise. These sidewalks have no place for any being at hours when demons creep but i'm so comfortable under the moonlight with my demons in tow. ******* help me
One of the most dangerous signs for me is when you think im fine
spoiler alert i dont think ill ever be fine but
You see me in public. You see me smile. You see me reach out and make plans.
This my dear friends is my goodbye
Just to make your last memory sweet because it’s all you ever wanted for me
But so unattainable.. Until now