Something has happened.
I have changed.
This happens to all of us.
But I'm scared.

I'm scared because I think
that at some point
I lost something.
Something of myself.
Something I can never get back.

And what really scares me.

Is that with every passing day.

I remember less and less.

What I lost.

Perhaps
In life
There are no
Satisfying
endings.
Only
Definitive ones.

I'm a little bit terrified that I'm
A real life
Manic pixie dream girl.

What if I only exist
To help others
Find their place in this world?

What if I'm doomed
To float in and out
Of depressive episodes?

Never having actually
Done much of anything.
A depthless side character

In my own life.

must love rainy days
adventure
pumpkin carving
and unexpected kisses

must be tolerant
of jimmy stewart
and bob dylan
the other men in my life

no height
weight
or hair color requirement
but big hearted weirdos
who smile for no reason
are always welcome

no
racist
sexist
homophobic persons
or those who say baby
as a term
of endearment

i like my coffee bitter
and my men sweet
never
the other way around

lopsided grins and kind eyes can get you everywhere

if similar in tempermant style or appearance to
the doctor
david bowie
mickey mouse
or jesus
please contact immediately

must be accepting of
raucous laughter
black and white films
cold feet
and occasional insomnia

i am always late
rarely refined
and have almost no perception
of the volume of my own voice

in junior high i asked a girl to stop picking on another child

she told me to go fly a kite

it was not until much later that i realized she was insulting me
not offering ideas
for an enjoyable way
to spend the afternoon

my hair is an untamable beast
but when fashioned properly
can be wrapped about my face
to create a rather fetching beard

i enjoy being scared
and am not easily so
unless you are a bug

i talk in my sleep
never know what day it is
and cry while reading good books

i just want
to hold your hand
in a crowded theatre
while we wait for the scene
at the end of the credits

and to be able to tell you
i love you

I was scrolling through Facebook,
At five o'clock in the morning.
Another sleepless night.
But not because of you.
I want to be perfectly clear, my lack of sleep has nothing to do with you.
I don't ever even think of you anymore.
But then there you were.
In a picture.
A friend of a friend, and you.
And everything in me sunk.
You looked happy.
And some small part of me...
That awful little part that reminds me that even when our love was "our" love, it was still selfish and imperfect.
That part of me hated seeing you that way.
Cause even though no part of me wants you anymore.
That small part of me still doesn't want you to be happy,
Without me.

Five years, one month, and five days.

I don't even recognize myself anymore.

What did you do to me!?

And where is the rest of me...?

doesn't mean I should.

I was finally okay.
I had severed every single inch of me that was still tethered across time and space to you. Wherever you are.

I had simply parted ways with those pieces of myself, and I finally felt light and free. And I had become so accustomed to the pain from those still healing wounds that I didn't even notice them anymore.

Then it happened.
It's not exactly that I was looking.
I wasn't.
Not at all.
I guess it found me.
I'd call it fate or serendipity.
But those words are too pretty for how I feel.

You look good.
You look happy.
It shouldn't hurt.
But it does.