I miss you.
Actually I think I just miss the idea of you, the good times with you.
I am healing, but it is taking so godforsaken long.
I’m addicted to the concept of you, unable to cope without something else to **** me dry, to bleed me dry, to destroy me.
It’s a way to punish myself for losing you.
There must have been some way to make you stay, there must have.
You were everything gold, and now everything I touch withers.
There must be something I can do.
But I’m grasping at straws that have melted with my hatred.
My hatred for you, and my hatred for myself for having chosen such destruction for myself.
I never spoke so clearly as when I told you I loved you.
But now it’s all for none.
I don’t want to say it was all for nothing,
But I also don’t want to say I enjoyed every single moment.
I don’t want to hate anymore, but it consumes me.
I’ve become comfortable with hatred.
I’ve become comfortable with the belief that no one can replace you, at least not yet.
I’ve become comfortable with the belief that everyone will be like you.