Poetry Journal Uploaded

I havent cleaned off my bed in four weeks

Author's note: this isn't my normal style of writing. It's more of an open-letter prose. It felt right for what I was thinking about.

I haven't cleaned off my bed in four weeks and I don't think I'll pack it up until I've placed it all in the back of my car. Of course there are moments where I still believe in you. I'm not sure if this is meant to be a poem or a letter, but I still hope it finds you well. I remain proud of you. Not of what you did, but of you. And I remain regretful for every tear I've choked back in your absence. The worst part of it all is that, had you not been the perpetrator, I would have gone to you about this. And now I have no one. They've all left, or have decided they hate you, or have decided I hate you. But I don't think I hate you. I know I miss you
I know things would have been different after you and her began but I still would have been there with you through it. I still can't look at walruses or watch movies with Adam Driver in them. I used to clean my room before we watched movies together, even if you were only on video chat I wanted to be sure you were seeing the best of me.
The funny thing is that he said we'd be a great couple. I guess that prediction will never be tested. I truly did think you were amazing. I still sometimes do. I know he hates me for still having softness in my heart for you but I feel as though I cannot help it. I no longer love you but the care I invested in you as your friend and as someone you confided in will never leave. As with everyone I've ever cared about: you will always have a space in my heart.
As I am writing out what I believe to be my final message to you, he continuously urges me to be more final. More harsh. More blaming. He continuously tells me you never cared about me. I don't know if that's true anymore. You left. You took all my care and affection and all my friendship and you threw it back at me. But before all this, when you would answer my stupid questions or let me rant or take my messy crying phone calls... it felt like you cared about me. I don't think I could ever hate you in the way he wants me to. So, I'm sorry.