Regret becomes me. I look at your photos, online galleries. dailybooth, facebook. what will you join next I wonder?
I feel creepy. Sick. Something is wrong with me. I feel like a stalker, white van, tying girls up and wiping their tears.
I'm not though. I miss you. You hurt me. You hurt me. So much... I can't forgive you but that doesn't mean I don't miss you.
I was there when you needed me, or so I thought. And when I needed you... Where did you go? I made a mistake, and my world fell apart.
So here I am, twenty past three watching downloaded films half drunk on bad beer on a floral print couch and writing bad poetry.
I've lost weight, I stopped eating meat I don't sleep anymore I erased you from my internet connections I tore the pages from my journal all the things I wrote about you all the things you wrote for me I burned.
I'll edit this a thousand times stop capitalizing add lines delete more lose my mind hate my work hate myself but you won't ever talk to me anymore. which is mostly my fault I'm sure