uɐʇɐs

i had a dream about you so i slept a little longer

it’s getting bad again

why is it so hard to deal with anticipatory grief, i know i’m going to lose you, i knew it from the beginning. i didn’t know how bad this would hurt. i knew the moment i held you, it would tear me apart when i’d have to let you go.

i remember when i’d had first found out you used to leave messages here, i’d religiously check them. anything, something. it’s been a minute and i don’t know if i’m even in your orbit anymore. i don’t understand anything you’ve been saying, and i wish i could. they’re cryptic and i feel like we don’t even speak the same language anymore. i hope you know i’m still here. if you’d call, i’d answer. no matter what words have been said, or haven’t in that matter. i don’t know if it’s right of me to say this but i don’t think i could ever afford to lose you. you don’t have to feel the same, i know you don’t. but i think life is so cruelly short i think i’d rather be honest. at least with you. i’m sorry

be honest? 
          i’m not sure what to respond to that.
          
          
          what do you want me to say? 
          
          
          i really wished you’d just ask me what you really want to, because it’s so much easier than trying to decode these cryptic messages. i honestly don’t even know if they’re for me to see anymore.

it's like one step forward and two steps backward, i don't think i understand you anymore. maybe i haven't for a while now

new book hehe

it's so refreshing and honestly so relieving that we're talking so casually again,
          but then there are moments where it's like,
          
          yeah i missed out on you beginning to drive so often and i didn't get to hear you tell me about the first few weeks or months of you driving, but i'm hearing you drive your mother and grandma everywhere.
          
          i hate realizing the gap is so ever present, that blip in time where i didn't get to hear about you starting to like going to malls or loving coffee yknow?
          
          it just sinks further into my conscience

Summer is a magical time. Like the world is so aggressively awake and enthusiastic. Like it just has to explode and laugh and cry and scream and just be in love. Writing poetry sometimes feels like that, I think.

i think i’m going to start writing again