ground zero
i become aware of boundaries
i am a dog chasing cars
i sing your voicemail to sleep
there are no surgeon general warnings
to tell me that
the objects in the mirror
are more depressed than they appear
so how do i tell you
that there are parts of my life
that move slower
without you in them?
or that i look for you every day
in emails & unanswered calls
in the sunrises
i didn't choose to be awake to watch
that i sometimes still stare at doorways hoping you would walk through them
   *stage 1 you tell your new lover you've got a splinter and they pull the sound of your body falling asleep on mine out of your fingertip
   stage 2 your new lover says something at dinner that makes you choke so they call 911 & the paramedics do the hymleich not knowing you would ***** our promises all over the the restaurant
   stage 3 your new lover surprises you by cleaning the house & washes the shirt you kept next to the bed, not knowing it was the last thing you had that smelled like me
after
people always ask
what was loving her like?
after a really long silence
i just say
"it must be nice"
but i never say
it's watching paint dry
i never say
it's a window seat in hell
i don't tell anyone
about the dreams
where i am reading you
bedtime stories
each one is a different way you die
& every time i can never save you
dreams where what i think
are angels in my bedroom
are just homeless versions
of myself you never loved
i have dreams
where i pay someone to shoot me
just to see if you would cry
just to see
if you would cradle my body
i don't tell people
that loving you is like
playing piano
for someone who can't hear
that it's hitting repeat
on my favorite song
& forgetting the words
every time it starts over
that it's finding out
there's no milk after you already
poured yourself a bowl of cereal
it's getting locked in the dark
& being told to
look on the bright side
that loving you is like
being reminded of what it felt like
the first time
you accidentally let go
of a balloon as a child
it's drowning without the water
it's the feeling you get
when you start to dance
& the song ends

And maybe the reason I flinch
every time you tell me you love me
is because of all the times I didn't even blink my eyes when I said "I love you" without feeling a ******* thing.

When did "I want to" stop being a good enough reason to do something?
When did we stop going after things simply because they made us happy?
When did we lose ourselves?

I keep finding bullets stuck between my teeth
The same ones you bought the day you decided the ceiling would look better covered in blood.
Maybe that’s why everything I say
sounds like it’s is trying to **** me.
But what do you do
when you stand in front of a mirror
with a gun to your head
and your reflection smiles back at you?
What do you do
When you stand in the middle of a busy road
And every driver is a different version of yourself you’ve tried to ****.
Every version of yourself
No one could love.
My mother used to get in fist fights with the mirror and expect to win
She says I look just like her
Maybe that’s why I wake up and can’t recognize who I am.
I checked the obituaries this morning
Trying to find myself again
It’s a habit I picked up from you
But I never thought your name would end up there before mine.
Sometimes I imagine what death feels like
Sometimes I imagine kissing you instead
By now it feels like I’m imagining the same thing.
Someone once told me that begging you to come home
Isn’t the same as praying
Maybe that’s why God stopped listening
and started smashing the windows of every place I thought we could be happy in.
Your smile looked a lot like the light at the end of the tunnel
Right before the train hits you.
I used to squint my eyes when I looked at you
Like I was looking at the sun
Or a car accident I wanted to be part of
I’m sorry I ever thought you could be anything ugly to me
You were the only beautiful thing in this hideous place.
I couldn't look at you clearly,
because I knew I would see my own face staring back at me and
your eyes were the only place I never wanted to be dead inside of.
You can only break your knuckles so many times
Before you cant hold yourself together anymore.
My hands haven’t stopped shaking since you left
I don’t know how to tell them you’re not coming back.
See, I used to say I never wanted to end up like my father
Now I have to say I never want to end up like you,
Which means I can’t leave without saying goodbye
But I tried to write my eulogy last night
And realized it's hard to write about someone I never knew.

Apparently writing down all the things I hate about you is supposed to help me get over you, but I'm not so sure it'll work because everything I hated about you was also everything I loved about you. And I hated how you even made me think of the word love even if it wasn't literally toward you. That doesn't really make sense but then again, neither did you, and neither do I, or anything really.

I loved how different we were because it meant things never got boring but I also hated how we never had anything in common and couldn't agree on anything half the time. Sometimes I wished you were someone else but then I would take that wish back because who knows how things would have been if you weren't you? I once told you about an ******* that made me upset and you said you would beat him up for me. It was really cute because we both knew you wouldn't even win in a fight against me. I loved how carefree you were. I never once saw you mad. It was probably my favorite thing about you, I wish I could've been more like you in that sense. But at the same time I hated how you didn't seem to care about anything at all, because did you even care about me?

You must have cared because you always picked up the phone when I called you, even at 2 in the morning, whether you were asleep or had an exam the next day. You were always the person I called at odd hours because you never questioned it. You never asked me why I called. You never asked me why I wasn't asleep yet. You didn't think it was weird when as soon as you picked up, before you could even say hi, I would ask you to tell me a story or tell me every single detail of your day. You would just start and you would keep going until I finally laughed. You knew I needed you as a distraction and you didn't even mind being used that way.

I loved how you always said my name, the way you just slipped it onto the end of sentences and questions. I didn't know I could fall in love with the way my name sounds coming out of someone's mouth and even now, I haven't found anyone that says it better than you. I remember when you called me the first time you ever got drunk and you kept saying my name over and over. In that moment, I could've sworn I was in love. But I also hated it because it was like you were making me out to be something I wasn't. I couldn't possibly be as perfect as you made my name sound.

It was like you could always tell what my mood was and you adjusted yourself to fit my mood. I loved how you understood when I didn't want to talk about some things and you would never push me to, you would just change the subject. Sure, that was what I wanted most of the time, but I hated that you didn't know that sometimes even when I don't want to talk about it, I actually do, and all I wanted was for you to hug me and tell me it'll be alright even if I would never believe it.

I came to work once after a night of crying and I think I covered it up pretty well with makeup but you saw through it as soon as you saw me. You were asking me what was wrong before I even fully stood in front of you. And you said I looked sad but at the time you didn't know that I was always ******* sad. You were the only person that day to see through my smile. I think you came closest to understanding me and that terrified me because I couldn't understand myself and I don't know if I want to.

I still remember when you told me that you were holding me back. You said it as a joke but I think we both felt the truth behind it. I loved that you wanted what was best for me but I hate how you didn't even try to make me stay. I probably wouldn't have and it would've never worked between us even if I did but **** I really wanted you to ask me to stay. Even if it broke you, I wanted to feel that you wanted me. I'm really sorry for how selfish I am.

But maybe you didn't really want me because you couldn't handle it. Because we both knew on those nights I called you at 2 in the morning, no matter how long you stayed on the phone with me and how much you made me laugh, I would still be crying myself to sleep when I hung up. How could you have thought that you were holding me back when I haven't even figured out where the **** I'm going? Or maybe you did mind being my distraction because I couldn't even figure out how I felt. Or maybe you knew I could never give you what a normal person deserved and maybe you figured out just how ****** up I am.

I don't even know what this is anymore. I was supposed to write about the things I hate about you but all I can think about is how much I hate myself and all the ways I hurt you when all I wanted was to stop myself from hurting. I once read something that said "you're not a bad person for the ways you tried to **** your sadness" so can you forgive me if you were the way I tried to **** my sadness? I'm sorry I tried to use you the same way I used the bottles and the bongs. I mean, even now, I can't tell if I actually liked you or if I just liked how you made me feel not so dead inside for a while. Sometimes I wonder if there's a difference between the two and if it even matters. But then again, I often wonder if anything ******* matters.

And I'm sorry I didn't tell you when I came back to town like I said I would but the truth is I wasn't sure if I wanted to see you or not. You were never a permanent cure, you were just a temporary painkiller and the crash when you wore off just added to everything else. That's why I didn't want to get close to you in the first place and that's why I hate you so ******* much. But I also can't.

And I still see you all the time in people that don't even look anything like you. I saw a man running across the street today and I swear to God I thought it was you but when I got closer I realized the man was probably at least 40. In crowded places I look for you and it makes me think of the time we went to a festival and you brought me home at 1:30 in the morning and **** I wish you had kissed me. But then again, I don't think either of us would have been able to handle the consequence of that.

I don't know how to end this, just like I didn't know how to say goodbye, which by the way, I am also sorry for. Even now, I am still wrapping my head around why we had to say goodbye. Because if circumstances had been different, if I was ******* different, maybe we could still be friends. Maybe we could have even worked out as more. Who ******* knows now? I shouldn't have gotten mad for no reason and walked away like that but how else was I supposed to leave without crying? God only knows I would hate you even more if you ever saw me cry.

You can tell him the truth. Tell him that I'm tired of walking around at 3am in the winter because I want to feel something that's  as cold as my heart and I want to see roads that are as empty as I feel. Tell him that it is hard for me to find the motivation to get up every morning and put a smile on my face when half the time I'm trying to find the motivation to keep living. Tell him about the times I woke up in someone's bed, whose name I will never remember, because I just needed a distraction for the night. Tell him about all the ways I have tried to fill the void that is my heart but failed to do so. Tell him that no matter how many good days, or weeks, or even incredible days I have, I will never be able to escape this sadness because it lives inside of me and it is just waiting for the right moment to attack. Tell him that I'm having a very hard time grasping why the concept of mental stability is so foreign to me. Tell him that the only way I know to deal with my feelings is to run away from them. Tell him I am tired of everything. Tell him I love him. Tell him I am grateful for all that he's done for me. Tell him I want him to be done with me.