My attachment to him is worst than I thought. It’s like he’s my world, still. As much as I try to detach myself. I’ve tried so many things, I’ve tried running away. I’ve tried lying to myself that I’ll be fine without him. Because I was fine without him before, right?
At the back end of all the hype and caps rage online, my mind still wanders to him, now more than ever. I still catch myself praying for him, hoping he’ll be okay. Then I pray I’ll be okay without him, when really and most truthfully, I don’t want to let him go.
Because you see, he’s always been my stability. My pillar, my comfort. As much as he tells he isn’t much. But if he can go on without me while I can’t, doesn’t it show how much more his value is to mine?
And it’s so sickeningly sweet and cliché of me to say that I can’t live without him. It sounds so stupid to say that I’ll never be the same without him. But it’s true, though worst of all, I don’t understand any of it as much as I’ve tried.
I don’t accept any sort of advise anymore. I can’t. I don’t want to. The only person who could tell me what to do was him, and without him, I basically do nothing. I’ve stagnated; Grown dormant. The dreams I have, they exist, written in pen on paper; carved in stone. I made sure. Problem being the vessel assigned to chase this aspiration. She drags her feet like it is an obligation.
I wonder, if he sees me this way. In my current situation. What would he say?
I don’t remember much, in fact I have no clue anymore. But it’ll probably make me feel better.
What would he say about my recent coffee addiction and lazy ways? Would he say the same thing all my friends have told me?
Maybe if he did, I’ll finally accept those statements.
I don’t know why. I don’t understand. How he makes everything sound like it’ll be okay. How he calms the raging seas in my heart and wars in my head.
I refuse to think that it’s love anymore. I don’t know what love is. He never said it. Never admitted to it. I must have been wrong.
But everything with him had felt so right. And this separation, it’s killing me, that for sure I know. Desperately clinging on to what I had unconsciously thrown away while I was with him. My cold exterior.
I want to mend the bridges that I have burnt. But I’ve no resources, my arms are scarred and my back, positively breaking. I don’t know how to go about it even. I don’t have another side to bridge myself to.
I’ve destroyed myself. The most careful, most practical, Cherie. Has officially fallen. Fallen prey to love she doesn’t want to believe in anymore.
Denial. Fickle-mindedness. Contradiction.
What have I become? I don’t remember anymore.
I just hope I get better soon.