dead

Eighth Letter

I tweeted that.

Support everywhere.

I know it was supposed to make me feel better but it didn't.

It didn't because nobody could help me through this.

Because you aren't here and goddammit I need you.

I need you like oxygen. And the only thing there is smoke, smoke of all the burnt memories.

When the smoke runs out, there will be nothing.

And that nothing will bring me closer you.