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I'm the protagonist and let me tell you it ISN'T A GOOD THING

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The nature of our relationship was not one born of lust or desire. It was irrational, illogical, and instinctual.

Ours is a connection, a magnetism, two polarized forces turned to attract the other. It is an orbit born of gravity and inertia, a centripetal force between us two constantly keeping our centers inseparable.

I felt you in my chest, beneath my sternum, and in my gut, between the hollow of my ribs. I feel the place where our souls used to dance like a giant's fist has ripped out my insides.

I want to scream, and everytime silence finds me, crawls inside me all I hear is my broken voice screaming your name until my lungs ache and my throat bleeds and my blood drips from the corners of my mouth and all I taste is salt.

I have lost the desire to numb myself because I know there is nothing that will numb me. Anything I do will crank my ribs open and lay everything I no longer have bare for anyone to see. It is a dark bloody husk inside my chest with shriveled lungs and a bruised heart that kept beating for you and believed in your promises and aspirations.

My grief is unmatchable, it refused to grow and move, I remain stuck now as I have for the past two munths; in firm denial.

Our connection is irrational, illogical...

And now so am I.

So can we talk about the absolutely stunning duplicity going on here?

Today is hard and horrible; my wounds gaping and sore. Every moment brings another knife of memory from before.

Anger pulses through me followed by crippling sadness. I feel nothing but my own craving for madness.

I'd give anything, everything, just to go back; just to wake up hung over after New Years again.

I would do so much different, and so much the same, but in the end my only goal would be to save you.

You: passionate, loyal, brave and kind. Cursed and playful with a magnificent mind.

It's almost been two months and I still cannot see how there is any possibility that you gave up on me.

Sometimes trying to remind yourself that a new love-interest won't help is like trying to convince a diabetic that even a little sugar is bad for them.

Laughter feels good for about 3 seconds.

Then melancholy quickly plummets into despair and longing.

Must ignore

Must push back

d o n t t h i n k a b o u t i t

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Amazing. Nothing unusual there.

Yesterday was hard, today is much the same. My sobriety is one of the few things I have left that are purely good and I am happy to say that just for today I feel happy being and staying sober. I just keep reminding myself that things will get better.

And if they don't, we'll at least I can look forward to the end.

Today's not really different.

Just another fucking day.

Wake up, get dressed, go to work and wait.

Waiting is what got me here

Waiting for something impossible to happen.

We should have left the first time you asked me.

But you wanted me to finish college,

Wanted me to follow my dreams.

Too bad you couldn't summon the strength when you most needed it

To keep holding on for me.

I had hoped you'd do it for yourself,

But clearly

Neither of those were enough.