I hate that I’m here. That I look for traces of you in every letter. That I hope the ones I write for you stick out like a sore thumb. That you read them in my voice. That you smile or are angry enough to leave a comment. That I see the comment and recognize your tone. That even if we’re like this now it won't be so, forever. That we move on or sort it out because it was doomed from the start. That I want to turn my emotions off and completely forget your existence but the pain would be unbearable. That when I can't sleep, you're entwined in my thoughts. That I wish I slept early that April night and not met you so this sadness I feel would be foreign. That you remember stuff, the small stuff, from the first time we spoke. That you made it clear you didn’t trust me without knowing me. That I heard the hurt in your voice. That I now feel the same having known you. That you say things in a way that makes sense to me. That you bring out the darkness in me, and I liked it. That you remind me that you’re here, but there. That none of it was enough. That I wasn’t messed up enough for you to entertain in that way. That you respond because of the pull we have on each other. That I wish I left you alone. That I wish you did the same. That I dreamt of listening to music in the same fabric of space. That we hurt each other. That you’re funny and genuine but also a bit evil, and cruel in a messed up human way. That you taught me fundamentals. That you make me the angriest I’ve ever been about a stranger. That you played with my heart knowing how I felt. That I did the same. That I can hear the smile behind your words. That you encouraged me to do the one thing that brought me joy when no one did. That you've torn me with the same breath. That you like it confusing because clarity is expensive. That you knew how easily confused I get so you toyed with me. That I found you’ve written letters instead of telling me how you felt, what you want, how you want it. That I'm making assumptions that the letters are even about me, us. That I still think of myself as yours. That I felt like I needed you when it was a want all along. That there were moments I saw you without your pretense. That you shared things I wouldn’t dare tell a soul. That I’ve fallen for your mind and kindness. That we showed love in the worst way possible and harmed in the process. That when you get angry you become crass. That you behave mindlessly at times, or so it seems that way. That you hated it when I did the same. That I am, at this very moment, wasting my time. That someone will love me as I am. That between us we've said some of the dumbest stuff and it's okay. That I feel for you as familial. That you've had no interest in bridging the distance. That I am here for you. That you are you. That we’ll fall in love, together or apart. That we act like we know each other when we don't. That all I've wanted was the best for you and all you saw was such a person does not exist. That I respect you. That I see you. That at times you can see through me but I wish you understood its not the same as being seen. That you string me along, and I feel dumb for falling. That when I get nervous I'm reminded of things you've told me that help me through it. That I loved you through time. That when you first disappeared I was worried. That I missed you so deeply it tore me to shreds. That I listened to that song countless times because you knew I would. That I fell for it. That we can’t turn back time. That we met when we were in the forms we were in. That you only want to be friends or less. That I'm moving on. That you, us, was all in my head. That in the end it wasn't romantically because neither of us are…
May 26, 2024 3:54PM
That I am now crying while listening to the song on repeat and rereading my own words. That I am Looking For You. That it matters less when I'm listening in a private session. That if it were 1974 we would see the Rumble in the Jungle and talk about the discovery of Lucy while this album is playing in the background. That I'm done. That this is goodbye.
