GUYS I CAN WRITE AGAIN!!! I’m so happy I’m totally milking it but it’s fine, it’s totally fine.

It’s only August and the trees have been bare for ages. I think they sense that this is the end of things; they don’t want to stick around for what comes next. This all feels familiar somehow. Have I been going in circles? My pain seems to go through the seasons, and autumn is where everything around me falls to the ground, like used tissues, like leaves, like you. The air feels chillier in these moments, and I long for someone I should have stopped caring for long ago. It’s too soon for all of this, but I can’t bring myself to care. We’ve been cold for too long.

Okay, so this one is a bit more conversational than the stuff I usually post here, but I’m still really proud of anything I can manage to write right now so I’m gonna post it anyways and it’s gonna be an odd duck for a bit.

You had a habit of just walking off without saying goodbye. I think you might have been training me to jump up and down at the first sign of affection, the slightest nod that might have meant you cared about me. I’ve been looking back and wondering how I didn’t catch it sooner. I don’t think I wanted to. I got excited when you remembered to wave at me as someone else captured your attention, when you didn’t shrug my arms away, when you pretended you could stand to be seen with me. You kissed me back, didn’t you? You let me love you, didn’t you? Wasn’t that enough?

Ahhhhh I wrote something!! FINALLY! God, you guys don’t understand how hard I’ve been trying to write something this past month, and I finally succeeded. I’m not sure how I feel about this yet, but it’s moderately artistic and it’s about what’s been happening lately so I’m happy with the fact that I was able to write something.

My bones are aching. You pulled out all the happiness from inside me until I was full of empty. The last year has been lived by someone wearing my skin, kissing your lips with a smile that never belonged to me. The world span without me on it, I think. I can’t seem to feel a thing for you. I wish you hadn’t torn out our page in my scrapbook, I think I remember it being quite lovely. I keep looking in the mirror to try and find the girl who loved you. Four words and you buried her somewhere no one’ll find her, not that anyone would want to anyway. None of it was mine. Why would you take this from me?