(no subject)
my life in what the fuck. my ways of having it and giving it up, in leaving it all behind to be alone and on my own and desolate. my way of missing it. of having to miss it. only missing it, never again having it, having had it. in my own back and forth in crushing blows in forever hurting eachother. but that wasnt its everything. in knowing beforehand the childish stupidity that does not justify the action. sealing my own fate and knowing absolutely that i will never love like this again, nor be loved the same again. being the cause of my own permanent torment. remembering the music that we once made, so blissfully...passing under the cracks of a door now blocked by sweaters. the frigid cold. he was so beautiful, so fucking amazing. and i am empty now