Untitled

There isn't a title for this one. Mainly because I've going through how to structure and phrase this blog for 2 weeks, just going round and round, following the hopeless words that whirl around my poor little head.

Because every time I think of a structure or sentence it sounds cheesy and corny and I don't want to say it but frankly I'm sick of crying myself to sleep after a fortnight of being without you.

And I don't want to sound generic or pathetic, but it's hard not to through language so poetic but if I write how I feel down on a word processed document then how I feel becomes fiction and we can all escape reality for a little while.

Because I am just so angry. So angry. I'm angry at you, I'm angry at me, I'm angry at this whole shitty thing we let ourselves get into. I'm so angry that I messed up the best thing that ever happened to me, I'm angry that you let me. I'm angry that two people who love each other more than anything can't be together any more because it got too much for one of them. I'm angry that you're gone. I'm angry at myself, my ego. Why couldn't I have been better? I'm angry I'm a nightmare, I am my own nightmares, and I can't escape them. I can't sleep now you're gone. Just constant nightmares. In them you die or you shift shape or you run away for good, and I end up screaming and crying and pleading once more and I get confused in case it is somnambulism because I wake up feeling as scared and as tired as I did before I fell asleep, I wake up still missing you, I wake up still stuck, I wake up still angry.

Before you I had lost who I was. Behind all the hate, all the pain, all the fame, all the popularity, all the stress, all the tears, I lost it. You found it again, now it's lost again and I'm trying so desperately to cling to the shreds of what is left of us because I don't want to lose that girl again. I miss being nerdy, I miss not caring, I miss waking up happy, I miss not being harassed, I miss being busy, I miss being looked after.

And I know everyone will tell us that we can do better. We both can. We probably both know this. We just don't want better. While my Facebook chats sneak into my bathroom, prick it's finger and scrawl "date me, date me, date me" all over the mirror, I'm too busy revisiting our own dates. I just don't want any one else. I think back to being in that hotel room with you, wrapped up with you in sheets so white and pure and I just want to go back to that night and back to that moment and just lie there intertwined with you forever even if we miss the check out time because checking out isn't important when I need to relinquish the feel your skin on mine.

No one has ever planned a future with me before. No one has ever made me feel like I'm worth a future. I hope our future isn't gone, because it sounded pretty great. Choking back tears because I'm losing my shit over some of the bullshit you said before you just took off and left and I just don't understand how you can do that in such a short time, relentlessly, tearing out the heart and leaving it to bleed while I look up into your eyes with the same loveful look I always conjured up when I had to look at someone I never goddamn deserved. 

And it's just over. For a while, but I think forever, I don't think you're coming back, but I really wish you would. I wake up in the night from a treacherous nightmare and I think back to New Year's when I woke up from one again next to you and I sat up and you woke up and said what's wrong and I curled up into your big lanky arms and I told you I had a bad dream and half way through telling you, I fell asleep and woke up on your chest hearing that precious heartbeat. Then I think back to earlier in that night when the countdown happened and I held your hand and I remember what I told you after all the vodka and cocktails I told you I love you and that this was our year and that we'll get through this year okay and oh my God you stupid girl why can't you take your own goddamn advice?

Even with those memories I still curl up to that Pikachu cushion and I still wish really hard it was you. Thank God writers are born with imaginations.

And oh my God, what am I to do when you forget me? You say you won't but I think you will, everybody does, I am forgettable. Who would want to remember a nightmare like me? I want to forget myself sometimes so I wouldn't force them memory of me on you again. Then you'll find another girl, and she'll be pretty, and less of a pain, she might watch anime, and she might have less stumpy fingers, and she might be a bit taller and she might buy better presents and she might have a bigger bed and not smoke or drink.

But she won't be able to ever love you half as much as I do. 

And I just really really fucking hope we get back together, because I feel lost, and as the French say "il me manque" he is missing from me, tu me manques. I feel lost and like shit, and I just want to call you mine again and hold your donny and go to pizza hut and have petty arguments over what to order and share and I'll be better.

I will be better. I promise to be better. I won't be a nightmare, I promise to be a sweet dream. You deserve all the sweet dreams.