i've sat here for hours trying to come to some realization that i am nothing and everything all at once, a walking paradox full to the brim but still so ******* empty that it hurts

coming apart at the seams never looked so appealing

talking about forgetting each other and assigning half-lifes to our memories as if they were radioactive in hopes that they'll disintegrate like the hazardous materials they have always been

"my heart is the vacant lot at the end of your street that is full of garbage and broken glass" and other cliches that people should stop writing about
what is my capacity of my ability to love?
is it possible that i was so full of it that now i am my own metaphorical sinkhole?

he called me less and less and less and less until i couldn't remember the sound of static over the phone
2. my bed stretched bigger and bigger until i swear my whole house was just space that he wasn't in anymore and meanwhile he was looking for someone else to take up the lonely space between his sheets
3. "abandonment issues" had become more of a personality trait than i anticipated
4. people began tip-toeing around me, like i was glass on the edge of a coffee table teasing the world with the possibility of my shards cutting everyone and everything around me
5. i stopped singing while washing the dishes
6. i stopped running while crossing the street
7. my future was no longer a glowing exit sign on a highway off ramp and instead became the vastness that is inside my own head
8. i started remembering who i was before him and now that i'm in the aftermath of the natural disaster that was "us", i have the realization every day that i deserved more

i deserved so much ******* better

broken mirrors neckties garter belts thigh highs *** drunk in love soft shirts tye dyed sheets polaroids constellations philadelphia uber dinosaur statues keurigs red lights short skirts twitter parking spaces tattoos ***  trains train stations train tracks grey hair modern baseball coffee mugs mason jars museums

sorry that i stained your pillowcase with tears over someone who left me farther behind than his old bedroom and his mom and his cats and his backyard and his kitchen floor where our conversations could have meant something

i've been thinking more and more about the definition of true love and i'm realizing every day that it's not the boy who ****** me over twice for the same girl
and it's not the ex who told me he was going to **** himself if we didn't get back together
true love isn't tragic endings
i'm learning that true love is the feeling you get when you're in the passenger side of a car and your best friends are yelling along to a song you didn't know they knew

i just think it's kind of ****** up that you escaped the fray with barely a scratch
and i still pick at my scabs every day
maybe if i pull myself apart piece by piece there won't be anything left to hurt anymore

Dear ****** ***,

hey so yeah i'm writing this on our 1 yr anniversary because it'll be cool to see what i felt about you a year ago and stuff. so, i guess here's a letter to future us!! maybe we will close the gap of 212 miles and we'll have rats and they'll be named bean and peach. we can finish our doughnut tour of philly and wake up every morning to blanket forts and special k and i will be your sun every day. all i know is that now i can't imagine a future without you in it. thanks for 2 great years and i can't wait to write you a card for infinity.

love always or whatever
-danny