I just want to let you know that I'm scared.
I'm beyond scared, actually.
I'm...I can't even think of a meaningful enough word to tell you what I am right now.
Laying in bed, I always think of you that night.
I get this mental image where you're sitting straight up on top of me,
my thumbs are on your rib cage with the rest of my fingers curling around your sides
and you breathe in deep breath, then you giggle and come back for more.
It's so fulfilling. It helps me sleep easier when I remember this. I'm not sure why;
But it does. It always does.

But im so panic-stricken because I'm losing that memory.
I'm losing all my memories of us slowly, but surly.
This isn't right.
I'm starting to forget the feel of you.
I'm starting to forget those little things you do.
I'm forgetting. I'm fucking forgetting.
It's making me so angry and I don't have reason to be, but it I am.
It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair.
THIS ISN'T MOTHER FUCKING FAIR.
I can't keep my composure when I can't keep you.
I don't want to move on. I don't want to lose my grip.
I don't want to stop missing you. I don't WANT to get over you.
I don't want anything but to be with you.
Great. Now I'm crying. I'm losing my god damn mind.
In losing you little by little, I'm losing myself.
I hate this. I can't stand that I'm replacing you..or trying to.
I just...I can't even think right now.

I'm sitting here in my room. The tv is the only thing keeping light in my room
(That, and the computer screen of course)
It's nights like these where I'm all alone
and think/and feel/and miss/and want/and need/and cry over
things that don't matter. you don't matter. you don't mean shit.
You were just a phase. You were just a hook up. You were nothing more.
I lied. I don't love you. I never did. You were just another body between my sheets.
You were just another thing that I wanted and got.
You're nothing special. You're just like the rest.
You were never anything.


It makes me feel better when I say those things. Lying to myself makes it easier to cope.
Saying the things that I don't really mean now & rereading them later helps me to remember.
Remember what? Well the pain. The hurt. The anguish. The hate.
Because remembering the pain reminds me that there was once pleasure.
Because remembering the hurt reminds me that there was once such comfort.
Because remembering the anguish reminds me that there was once so much happiness.
Because remembering such horrible, pain-staking hatred
reminds me that there was once such deep, passionate, infallible, and above all,
perfect love
Perfect, perfect love.