I'm there. With him.
Head on his chest.
Arm slung over his stomach.
I can hear his heartbeat, and I tell him so.
I can feel your heartbeat. And I guess it's a good thing.
Why?
Because if I couldn't, it'd be because you're dead.
He laughs.
I don't.
Because as we lay there, head on his chest, arm slung over his stomach.
I can't feel anything. Not a single feeling.
I feel nothing.
And I wish that everything was different. I wish I was excited before every single kiss and I wish I missed him when he wasn't with me.
But it's not like that.
I don't miss him
And every single kiss is just yet another kiss.
Two pair of lips meeting.
Nothing more.
Just that, nothing.

YOU ARE READING
Anxiety
Genç KurguIt's not my fault. I mean, I never asked for any of this. I can't help that it's in my genes. I can't help that I'm fat.