May 9, 2024
This wound is taking longer to heal than any other wound I've gotten before, and it's furstrating me. I often wonder if we'll ever talk like normal again, but nothing feels right with you anymore. Yet whenever we talk I still feel good, until the conversation dims down, and my thoughts fester again. Nowadays it feels like they're all part of a game that I'm not in on. I'm scared that peoples perception and idea of me has been forever spoiled by your deceitful lies and fake claims about me just to keep the lie going for a bit longer. Sometimes I think maybe I should have stayed ignorant, but it's as if the floor I was walking on turned to a conveyor belt and I had no choice but to follow its lead. You were so ingrained into my daily life I struggle to find anything to replace you with. Drawing, eating, walking, running, typing, posting. We promised we wouldn't be strangers, that we'd continue making memories together, no matter what happens. My soul feels thin and worn out, I long for you, I hate you. You're the finest work of art I've laid my eyes on, a beautiful maze sprawling with foliage from head to toe, but none of this is meant to be romantic, despite how strongly I loved and obsessed over you. I just miss us being friends.
May 4, 2024
Things will get better.
April 12, 2024
Starting fresh.