My skin is seeping salty feelings, and cooking warm under the pressure of anxiety.
I just typed a series of monologues to your inbox again, but you don't seem to hear them.
It's 3:46 AM. I'm almost delirious. What is sleep? I spend about 14 hours in bed everyday.
I usually get 1-2 hours of sleep.
My tears have stained my pillowcase. Like, I don't turn the light on anymore because I see the stains.
In my room, it is very cold. I guess it's cold like me. Or is it really, just cold like you?
I'm lost and alone, and I'm afraid you'll never come back.
I need you back.
What did you not understand?
When I told you when we were still together, that I'd love you until the day I died?
When I told you after you forcefully dumped me, I'd have this problem until the day I died?
Because the day I die, in my last moments, I will finally be able to decide to give up on you.
At times, I've wanted to commit suicide.
Because if I'm not waiting for you,
I'm waiting until the day I die.
Oh look, another monologue.
Don't read this one.
Go hang with your girlfriend instead.
You already decided that's whats best for your health.