you treat conversations like materialistic objects you strive to gain

i only drink green smoothies now bc strawberry ones still remind me of u

2:46am
i was sat on my bed, just like the other 24 hours of the day.
my laptop warmed my thighs, it felt good. another episode of some random series illuminated the screen, the characters were a fill in for friends, succouring a broken heart. one friend called another stupid and the rest of the group giggled, it made me giggle too.

i was sat on my bed, and declared that i was no longer lonely.

falling deeper and deeper into a cycle of sleepy 5am snack breaks, soft chips and maple syrup, something still aches. i think a piece of my puzzle is still lost underneath your couch. i really want it back.

4:22am
i reiterated that i'm okay now as i reached for another oreo.
i told myself that i single handily patched myself from the bottom up with the little dainty sewing kit i keep on the top shelf of my wardrobe (for emergencies only).
i told myself i should be proud although i'm not the best seamstress and left a few loose ends here and there.

it'll be okay. i now repeat, at 5:32am, gazing into the mirror you use to take selfies with whenever i left my room, it'll be okay.

the remains of four pink post-it notes laid in front of me, burnt, ash staining my white desk a mix stormy grey and rotten bananas.

i looked up and stared at my reflection again, but this time i could recognise myself beneath the eye bags.

i think i'm getting better