I hope they ask about me & I hope you tell them you fucked up.
It’s half ache, half compulsion. I don’t know if I want to pull you closer or leave you behind. Don’t know if from afar we look like some multi-story car crash. Mostly, I can’t do it by halves. I either want to spend the rest of my life with you or I never want to see you again. It’s do or die. I’ll kiss you or I’ll kill you. All I know is that I won’t do both.
I missed you every hour. And you know what the worst part was? It caught me completely by surprise. I’d catch myself just walking around to find you, not for any reason, just out of habit, because I’d seen something that I wanted to tell you about or because I wanted to hear your voice. And then I’d realize that you weren’t there anymore, and every time, every single time, it was like having the wind knocked out of me.