It’s as if I’m not allowed to miss you because you aren’t the same person nor want anything to do with me. It’s like.. you’re dead.
I worked on this hoping I could fill my void of the unknown; not knowing what happened or how love escaped my grasp without me even letting go, & I fill it with the memories of what I do know.. or DID know. I didn’t work on this pathologically with a motive, hoping someone would run and conjure some sort of conflict or drama from this. I worked on this so I could enjoy the best time of my life and bottle it up and share it with you. I worked on this acknowledging that it’s okay to stroll down memory lane and miss it til it hurts, til you’re sick of missing it, and til you’re sick of hurting.