It isn't like I didn't try to forget you. God, I tried. I tried it all. I banned you from my thoughts only to dream of you endlessly, mourning your appearance in that suspended place while secretly praying for more. I cast you away every time you spoke but found myself listening harder than before, ******* in details like the color of your shirt, or how your lips molded to the words falling from your tongue looked as ****** as how you might someday kiss a lover, whom I always dreamed was me. I ached for your touch only to deny myself oxygen when we were in the same room, relying on a supply of imaginary wishes to fuel my laughter. Most of all, I let your voice crack me into shards, the scales and spikes successfully keeping out both you and everyone else, effectively leaving me to my own filthy disease. I tried to forget you, and push you away - all of it, only successful when you were far from sight, excommunicated from my tumultuous brain.

But it never quite worked how I needed it to, because some part of me is still ridiculously and foolishly drunk with the idea of you... of us.