(Private)
The tree he drew on my back is starting to fade. That makes me much sadder than it has any right to. I briefly entertained thoughts of having it tattooed permanently, but in a way that would be worse. If it was there forever and he wasn't.
He's not the same with me now. Not since-
It's like we've gone backwards to before... ever day he gets a little more distant... holds me a little farther away. His affection fades some more. He still treats me like a friend, a good good friend. But that already is less than it was before and less than it was yesterday.
I need you, Ella, don't leave me, don't leave me...
I didnt NEED it, I've done it on my own before. Nice though, yeah? So thank you.
I do now. Do I? Yes. No. Yes.
I know what his mouth tastes like. I know what he looks like without clothes. I know what he feels like in my hand, in my mouth, in myself. I know him. Biblically. Knew him anyway.
I worry that I'll forget.
I worry that he wants to. Or wants me too. It's the same. Except it's not.
For a week I washed with his shampoo and slept on his sheets and washed my clothes with his detergent. If he didn't come to bed at first, I still had the scent of him on me. I don't want to wash him away... still, swearing off personal hygiene might raise some eyebrows... sometimes I still think he's there, when I'm tired and not thinking with my head. I slept in his shirt. I never did give it back.
Soon it won't smell like him either.
There's a bright girl with an odd name and she knows him too. Before I did, she did first (not first though, not even last). Soon he won't have time for his dark girl. I'll still be his though, like a broken barbie under a teenager's bed.
A goth is for life not just for manic episodes.
I want to hurt her, because he's supposed to be mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine. But he never was, I was just his.
But he was supposed to be.
I wish, I wish I'd met him years ago. I wish we'd been young together. If there was no Prudence, no Katrina.... if there was just Joffan and Ella. It would have been so, so easy and lovely and right.
Or maybe not.
Hard to tell really.
(I can't tell anyone, I can't, I can't, I can't)
I can't.