I lost myself in Chicago a few weeks ago and I haven't been found since. Everything was so unfamiliar and it seemed to be the only place Everett hadn't poisoned for me. Each new cafe I walked into I peeled off another layer of skin. I ripped another one of his letters. And at the end of it all I felt cleaner. Not whole, certainly not. But as if I could manage all the loss I'd experienced over and over again for three years.
For once, I want someone to be afraid to lose me. I'm always the one who is so terrified of losing the ones I hold close, but I've never once seen anyone who would ever fight to keep me in their life.
I wanted to live inside his delicate bones, melt into him like a second skin. I wanted to love him so terribly.
The last night I was with him, I was taking pictures. Pictures of him taking pictures, pictures of him laughing, pictures of his car, pictures of his pianist hands. And he didn't know that I knew that that was the last night I was ever going to see him.
It was so much easier to let go because I knew it was coming. I saw it like I saw the fat growing between my bones, making me ugly
But I put on my black dress, pretended like I didn't know, and I took pictures and danced and laughed and cried. Everything feeling lost and broken and hurt. Then the mustic stopped I never heard another sound from him.
I wish I could sink my fingers into the golden curve of happiness but my footholds are loose and they crumble with the weight of all my hopes.
I'm not sad until I think about it. But once I think about it, it hits me like a wave a sharpened rocks. Once I think about it, my eyes are heavy, like there is too much gravity pressing down on my heart.
He was the only thing I had faith in, but the only thing I knew would let me down. And it's all my fault. I'm sorry for being me. If I could go back in time I'd change it all.
I'm sorry again, for being gone. I will go through my newsfeed and comment on all your guys' post. You all deserve so much more than I give you. I love you so much.