I feel like I need you all the time. Like you illuminate my world.

And that it makes me weak and dependant to say such a thing.

I feel like you’re giving me breadcrumbs when I need hot loaves.

I feel stupid and depressed. Like no one knows or understands what I am sad about. And that itll last forever.

Im frustrated that ive gone to pieces. Mostly, im surprised you left me as soon as you could leave me. I remember asking asking if you had already left before leaving.

I can’t survive on just texts. And planning feels so prescribed, impersonal.

I don’t know how to repair my heart after being rejected by one of the truest friends Ive ever known. I cant stop hearing you say that you dont find me attractive anymore or that you need to go live alone.  And you seem so surprised when I tell you this as if those words wouldnt resonate and echo within any body, repeating themselves.

And I feel like you lied without lying. Like having an open secret or keeping mum. Did you just say comforting halftruths to escape my distraught in the moment? Were you just buying time until you left?

I wonder when I started to think of your displays of comfort so cynically and I am dismayed that I cant place the origin to these doubts. And how unfair Im being.

Was this year so bad? So different from all the rest? Did you grow so much that you grew to prefer other soil?

Richer soil? I ask myself. The grass is always greener over there so why wouldnt the soil be richer than mine. What is greater proof of loss than disinterest?

Its been too long since writing helped me through a hard time. Maybe ive been in denial about how hard its been. Or maybe I got soft. Or ive been crying too long about you or not enough. I could never tell. The answer depends on who you ask.

Im tired of having all these feelings alone when we were so happy to share in each others. At least, I felt happy to indulge you in your moods though sometimes I was humbled by your cavernous depths. And here I find myself spelunking alone in my own subterranean labyrinth with just the glowing embers of my crumbled heart to light my way. You’re the only one who knows Im here and how dark it is.

To your credit, you do pop in from above once in a while, flash me a glimpse of the lonely tunnels I must explore and smile invitingly, still from above, and beckon me forward as if I shouldnt be afraid.

And I feel weak for being afraid. And I fear what I’ll find in blindness.