I'VE BEEN IN BED FOR FOUR DAYS.

it's not so much as i am too weak to get up and move it around.
it's just for the fact that i am alone.
i've taken myself on movie dates and brought two sodas, put my coat in the seat next to me and often times held my own hands while the movie played.
and every night i thought maybe each and every night would be different.
i've told strangers my secrets all because they told me i was pretty.

i've been in my bed for four days and between those days i slept with a man who wouldn't even hold my hair as i threw up apologies to my mother.
underage drinking isn't something that you should do but i've kissed more bottles than boys and a hangover hurts less than heartbreak.
i've watched the sun burn itself into ashes while telling the boy i knew since i was three that i'd never kiss him because he traded me for Lara Jean.
i've kissed cold lips, chapped lips but mostly underaged drunk lips and i pretended to be anyone else but my dim breathing self and still i was alone.
i expected fullness in a place that held the echoes of my mothers disappointment and all i ever got back was my own cracked voice.
all i ever got back was a strangers mouth and i always pretended that's what i always wanted.

i just never wanted to be alone.