missing you

When in doubt, over-analyze everything.

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I sent out the faintest of distress calls to you yesterday.

I argued…no, I warred with myself on whether to stay in a state of silent need or to reach out albeit in a small and slow way.  My head filled with insults and shamed me for even wanting contact from you.

Things…life actually,  has been heaping itself upon my shoulders in massive bags laden with woeful bullshit that only first world complainers can identify with.  I am so small already and I see the ground getting closer and closer as this all this weighs on me, compressing me further.  Bad situations and unfortunate events have plagued me in relentless rounds before, but this spell has been lasting for months with no respite, and I don’t have you to talk to, I don’t have you to cry to, I don’t have you out there in the multiverse, even 5000+ miles away caring about me.  That fact alone collapses me further.

So when I saw a trinket that screamed you, I had to get it. I thought just carrying around this worthless little patch would give me the smallest bit of order.

I lasted a little over a week.

I knew as I wandered over from the birthday cards to the blank cards, that I was looking for one for you, and I wasn’t going to stop myself. I couldn’t bear the thought of NOT sharing this little whatnot with you, which ended up being the tiniest of overtures to put me in your thoughts, the very place I want to be, that I cannot claim residence at any more.

My weakness demonstrated by this furtive plea for your care, for your endearment is fucking ridiculous, makes me disgusted with my stupid heart even more than it was already. Ugh. Everything sucks right now and apparently I do too.

The mail has been dispatched, a little nothing inside with the scantest of words written in the emptiest of spaces, and now I wait.

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Tearing little pieces 


 

 

It’s almost unbearable how you don’t miss me like I miss you.

The inequality of emotion there is cutting into me.

Will we EVER be on the same page?

Sometime I wonder if it would be better for you if I didn’t exist at all, that way there is no obligation to care.

Can we go back to the part where you are excited to talk to me? 

Hating myself for needing your want.