The way you spoke felt the way hot sand felt between my toes, a kind of painful pleasure that eventually made me run back to the ocean to cool off. You remind me of the ocean too, although not the ones seen in holiday brochures. More like the angry part of the ocean I saw in Spain years ago, rising high and mighty above me, putting me in my place. It even knocked me down, just like you did.

I don't regret knowing you, I just regret loving you. I regret surrounding myself with you and your incapability to love anything other than yourself, your incapability to care about anything that didn't directly involve you. How sad, how unfair that I am left here to drown in self-loathing and you are still out there, still happy, still care-free, still clueless about what you did to me.

I miss something particular about you; not your hands, not your lips, not anything near your skin. I miss the little neurotic pieces of your mind and the way you said my name that night. Most of all, I miss just having someone to talk to. How stupid of me to convince myself you are all I need, only to have you leave like everybody else. It's frightening that even though I am surrounded by people, you're the only person that really exists to me, the only person that made me realise I'm not alone. And God, I am so lonely.

I'm leaving. I'm scattering my soul to the wind in the hope I'll find myself someday. Try to love yourself and next time, fall in love with someone who looks at you as though he can see your soul more than he can see your skin. Stop looking for reasons to die and start searching for reasons to live. You are worth more than what you settle for. You are not alone.