I am unmade by you.
Ugh I'm in a shitty mood had to flyer campus in the rain got sad, had to flyer all of Cramer, wandered around sad. I shouldn't be mad at you. I'm just lonely, you had know way of knowing Taylor and I had been fighting while you were gone, delicately holding on, hurting, missing you. Happy emails from Espana lied to us, concealed the truth. We'll get through this. I won't be stronger for it, I feel weaker than I ever have, unmade by my stupidity. Everything unravels, unmaking designs and plans. I was devout and prayed, another lie I told myself would dull this pain. Everywhere I look I see where you are not, where I wish you were. but that will fade in time like all the others. You say you are my friend and I have to believe you, to take you on faith when I have none. My love was not enough, it never is. This isn't about you. This isn't about me. This is about the way things unravel, and unmake us in their wake. It comes in waves out of nowhere, rage, bleak blinding hopelessness. Hatred, regret, pity. Lust, pain, love confusion all at once. I will be okay eventually. For long stretches I will then I see your happy emails from Spain that brought me so much joy, so much promise, you sound like you miss us and love us and then BAM reality sets in. I'm lying to myself. It was all for nothing.It was all your idea. I said we could have been just friends who fucked back then but you didn't want to see anyone else now its you want to see no one, then someone, just not us. I accept that you are just my friend now. I loath it, hate it, but accept it as it's my only chance to be near you. One day it won't hurt as much, and then the next a little less. You will blissfully move on. I will be at your call, not your side. and it will be okay. someday. Someday may never come I know. This is the opposite of my hopes, but a possibility. You did this to me. You have unmade me, but it is not you, it was the idea of you. You are just a man, flawed and fragile . An illogical naked ape afraid of the Promeathian fire. I was burned by the invention of it. By us, By the spark of an idea. I don't see you. I am so sorry for that. I don't see your pain I should. I don't want you to hurt, I don't want to hurt you. I love you no matter what. I don't want you to be miserable. I'm not going to try to manipulate you, guilt you. I'm just rambling. I am self medicating with self-absorption, delusion and pain. I'm singing Antony to myself, "It'll grow back like a starfish." and "I am so very very happy, so please hurt me."