I wish you missed me the way I miss you. Even a fraction would do, really. If you'd let me, I'd be at your side in a moment, no matter what... but you don't really want me in your life in any intimate sense. Every time I stop and think too hard, it hurts. But I can't really avoid thinking about you... everything about you, from your slender but athletic frame, the brilliance of your smile, the curls of your hair, linger and haunt my mind all hours of the day, a film reel playing on loop in the background of all my daily thought processes. I remember what it felt like to lie in bed and nestle up to your cool back, your shoulders deceptively wide as I'd embrace you. The feeling of your arms around me. The whispers in the darkness.
Oh, I'll have a passing thought every now and then... something along the lines of "He really stayed home just to play video games? That's more important than his friends?" and I'll know... that his priorities are never going to change. That all of my emotions are in futility. But... the moment I see him again, any attempts I make to mentally talk myself out of my state of stupor turn to dust, proverbial ash in my mouth. The connection I feel towards him is so immensely strong. Even if he doesn't feel it, it quakes me to my very core. It rips me apart at the seams. I love him so much the fire is burning me alive, I love him so much. And that's why, I suppose, for an entire year now, even with the help of medicinal aid, I'm still caught up in all of this. That even with my serotonin being artificially boosted - canned happiness, I guess - I'm still in so much ******** pain whenever I remember how much you don't give a s**t. I still feel like I can't do this without you, now that I know everything I do. God, if only I could go back to ignorant bliss, when I didn't want to see you and I thought I knew everything I wanted. I'm a ******** moron. So many years I've spent being absent from your life and I thought I could just come back and act like nothing happened. I deserve everything I'm getting, but I'm trying so hard to make up for it.... Please...
I'm honestly so, so lonely. I feel so goddamn lonely. My heart is crying for emotional and physical fulfillment, I want someone. But it can't be just anyone, apparently. It has to be you. I can't even ******** trick myself into trying to feel any other way. I thought I'd be fine with scratching that itch with someone I have some feelings for... but you know what? All I could think about was you. Your name popping into my head, on repeat. Your name being the one I want to cry out. And I faltered, I crumbled, I shriveled, and I turned away. My body might have been more than fine with how things were going, but my heart wasn't. Oh no, my heart has to have its own way, and my heart says only you'll do. ******** me, right? You don't even give a damn, and this is how it is. This is miserable. This is so ******** miserable.
I miss you. I miss you so much. God I ******** miss you. This isn't fair. Nothing about any of this is fair. Please, god, I wish someone would help me. Please just take down your walls... please just let me be apart of your life again.... If I had one goddamn wish, one wish, I'd ask for a second chance. Do you hate me that much? Am I that repulsive to you? Or maybe I've betrayed your trust too many times. I wish I could learn to keep my mouth shut more often. I'm so sorry I told anyone about some of things you shared with me in confidence... I should have never done that. I need to be a better person. Do you know about that, maybe? Is that why you won't tell me anything anymore? I don't know how to be outside this circle with you... I still hate it. I hate knowing nothing. You used to tell me everything. I used to trust you. I still want to... I want to stop being paranoid, I want to stop believing there might be anyone else in any capacity. I want to stop cracking.
I think I should end this here for tonight.
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These are the records of certain occurrences and musings in my life. It is probably not of much importance to you, unless you enjoy being a sleuth or have some vague interest in listening to me prattle about my flavour-of-the-month.