i tried not to write of misery and heartache, but i always find myself writing about you in the end. i don't want to seem depressed, dependent, almost pathetic, as i find constellations to string together, reasons why you left. i know it seems a bit cliche, but i guess now i understand movies. it feels like i'm breathing underwater. in reality, you worked as a lifeguard, and you seemed so oblivious, to me. i'm drowning. as the waves pushed me back further from shore, you seemed to breathe better. less suffocated. the flowers i hoped i planted in you, creeps out of your mouth, they're weeds. they have withered. i have stopped watering them. i thought i planted beautiful seeds in you, but they only turned out for the worse. and i never knew, till the vines suffocated you and creeped out your mouth. and i'm sorry, but i guess, we've been both gasping for air. honey, i'm sorry.