Someone to die for
I've gone through countless playlists. Thousands of emails. Stories. Pictures. I've given away precious memories. I've packed them away in a box and shoved them as far away as I could. I've gifted things I couldn't hold onto anymore. I tried so hard.
It doesn't change anything.
I still want you back. I still miss you. Some days are worse than others. Some days I beg for better days. Every birthday wish, every Christmas miracle, every shooting star, I wish for the same thing. I wish desperately for you to come back. Over and over and over and over.
I keep moving in an ever-turning circle, waiting for the pain to dull -- and it has, but never gone away completely. It was easier in the early days... to lay curled up in a ball on my bed and sob. To watch the day tick by and not move. Where it made sense to just not think. I can't go back to that.
I went to a therapist. And I tried to talk to her. About what was wrong with me, about what was wrong with it, with you, with us, and I didn't get anywhere. I found myself staring helplessly at my lap more than I did actually telling her anything. Because I didn't even know where to begin. I couldn't find the words. I still can't find the words. They've been lost to me since then, as stupid and pathetic as it sounds. All I know is the emotion and no way to express it to anyone, not even myself. I catch it sometimes, in tidbits of songs or sudden, fleeting thoughts.
I yell at myself. I know I shouldn't be so hung up on you. Two years have passed. But I'm stagnant. Every attempt to do something, anything falls flat. From fear, from too much desperation for it to work, from just being me. And so here I am. Stuck on you. Still. Because it's just easier to long for you instead, where I know that familiar dull ache and it's not something new and fresh and just as disappointing.
So here's to a new year, same as the last in many ways. And the one before that.
It doesn't change anything.
I still want you back. I still miss you. Some days are worse than others. Some days I beg for better days. Every birthday wish, every Christmas miracle, every shooting star, I wish for the same thing. I wish desperately for you to come back. Over and over and over and over.
I keep moving in an ever-turning circle, waiting for the pain to dull -- and it has, but never gone away completely. It was easier in the early days... to lay curled up in a ball on my bed and sob. To watch the day tick by and not move. Where it made sense to just not think. I can't go back to that.
I went to a therapist. And I tried to talk to her. About what was wrong with me, about what was wrong with it, with you, with us, and I didn't get anywhere. I found myself staring helplessly at my lap more than I did actually telling her anything. Because I didn't even know where to begin. I couldn't find the words. I still can't find the words. They've been lost to me since then, as stupid and pathetic as it sounds. All I know is the emotion and no way to express it to anyone, not even myself. I catch it sometimes, in tidbits of songs or sudden, fleeting thoughts.
I yell at myself. I know I shouldn't be so hung up on you. Two years have passed. But I'm stagnant. Every attempt to do something, anything falls flat. From fear, from too much desperation for it to work, from just being me. And so here I am. Stuck on you. Still. Because it's just easier to long for you instead, where I know that familiar dull ache and it's not something new and fresh and just as disappointing.
So here's to a new year, same as the last in many ways. And the one before that.