The things I otherwise would've said had you been more accepting.

You never returned, only circled, as though drawn by some cruel, invisible tether to the wreckage of what we once were but never could be again. Your presence presses against my chest like a wound still open, unhealed, as if time is capable of mending when it only ever buries. What do you seek, in the ruins of us? A scrap of what was pure before it all turned to rust, before love twisted into something we couldn’t name anymore? Don’t tell me it's closure— I saw your hands pull the earth over the body of what we had, and now you only dig to see if it still breathes. Every glance you throw me is a reminder of something rotted, but still too stubborn to decay, like a corpse refusing to lie down, its limbs twitching beneath the weight of time. Your name feels like an anchor pulled too tightly across my ribs— a bruise that won't fade, a shape carved into the skin of memory with no intention to heal. This is not a graveyard— it’s the ruin of what was once a sanctuary, a temple desecr...

A - Apathy. Your apathy during our separation is killing me. You know I’m still waiting for you, but you remain cold. I guess you’re just expecting me to give up on my own. B - Bombing. Bombing of any kind is never a good idea, including your favorite pastime: love bombing. C - Counting. To this day, I am still counting how many seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months we have wasted since separating. D - Duress. Ever since the beginning, you fucked things up in ways I never would’ve imagined, ways I would never wish on my worst enemies. I gave you grace under duress, and you still left nonetheless. E - Envy. Sometimes, I envy the residents of the loony bin. Maybe that’s where I belong, eventually. F - Fall. This September would’ve been the beginning of fall elsewhere. Little did I know, it was the beginning of my fall into madness, as well. Our relationship falls apart, and I was blindsided, yet again. G - Grief. To grieve you is akin to grieving someone who passed, yet still ...

 This is it. The final problem. The one thing that has been rearing its ugly face time and time again, the one that has kept me wondering for ages; I have now finally figured it out. The final problem is me . This probably won't come as a shock to you, seeing how unstable I have been throughout the years, but believe me, I have tried to be better, to do better. Yet it seems to always fall short. I cannot stress enough how many bridges I've burned unintentionally simply because I cannot control what comes out of my mouth. It is ironic, to say the least. As someone who deals with words daily, I sure am careless with how powerful words can be. I have been irresponsibly wielding that power for too long, and now I face my reckoning. I have lost yet another. This time even worse than previous losses. By this time, I am sure everyone would've expected me to learn from my mistakes and be better, yes? Apparently not. I may have improved a little, but I have not improved as a person....