it's not that i don't love you. it's the sounds i heard when i was 9 and my father slammed the door so hard behind him i swear to god it shook the whole house. for the next few years i watched my mother go insane on drugs and alcohol. i think she stopped breathing when he left. i think a part of her died. i think he took her heart with him when he walked out. her chest empty, just a shattered mess of cracked ribs and depression pills.
it's not that i don't love you. it's all the blood in the sink. it's the night i spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my best friend was going to be okay, after the girl he loved, told him that she didn't love him anymore. it's the crying, the fluorescent lights, the white sneakers and the pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. so much blood.
it's not that i don't love you. it's the time that i was up for two days straight crying and shrieking and throwing up all over my bedroom floor because my girlfriend fucked her ex. i swear i can still see tear stains if i look closely in the mirror. i think when you love someone, it never goes away.
it's not that i don't love you, it's that i can't.
YOU ARE READING
thoughts
Acakjust me, my thoughts and how i feel // these will be published when i feel the need to rant or something, its just sorta a rant/thought book so yeah
