But the truth is, you were never there. You won’t ever be.
Sometimes I think I’m not either so what do I do
When every day still seems to start and end with you?
And you won’t ever know, you won’t ever see,
How much your ghost since then has been defining me.
I leave the memory up atop the balcony.
I tear this flower from the back of the dress.
It’s best this time, I bet, to just forget and let go.
Paint it the shade of where the lip bleeds and blur it out.
I blur out everything else, just blur out everything else.
And let go, and let go, and let go.
Everybody has to let go someday
Everybody has to let go.
I wonder when I will. I wonder.
I always find myself caught between saying too much and not saying enough
For what it’s worth: it’s never too late to be whoever you want to be. I hope you live a life you’re proud of, and if you find you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start over again.
You deter me, no wait, everyone deters me. Let me rephrase that, everyone who reminds me of him deters me and it doesn’t have to be because they are alike. It can be for any reason at all, they can be opposites but it will still remind of him because I will think, “you are nothing like him, please leave me alone.” Because you aren’t like him and no one really is, you are boring and I can’t stand your voice and your stories have no purpose and you are not funny and I do not care about your day or your pets and I can’t laugh at your laugh and I will never love your laugh and it makes me so fucking angry. No matter how little or how few people I talk to, everyone makes me very angry almost every single day because in some way I always end up thinking of him. I hate talking to anyone who isn’t him.
And I’ve heard you said one time, that I never even fucking cross your mind. And I guess I’ll act like that’s fine, but you should know that you cross mine all the time.