a mess

He is exactly the poem I wanted to write.

I kept all the pictures and saved all the messages, and that’s all I have. They’re all I have to remind me that it was real, our love was real. And that’s what I repeat to myself when things get really bad, It was real It was real We were real.

“Just friends” but you’re still the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen “Just friends” but I find myself reminiscing our first kiss way more often that I should “Just friends” but even as I’m writing this I’m sitting on a bench we once hugged on and that’s all I can see “Just friends” but today you touched my hand 3 times and I swear I felt something, you must have felt it too? “Just friends” but I always look forward to saying goodbye because it’s the only time it’s okay to hug you “Just friends” but today you were sitting so close and it just didn’t feel right without you arm around me. You never did move to put it there though “Just friends” but it’s hurts when you talk about her “Just friends” but I’m crying on a bus stop bench because it’s hurts so fucking much being “just friends” “Just friends” but I’m still madly fucking in love with you

Every 7 years, the cells in your entire body will be destroyed and replaced with new cells. One day I will have a body you will have never touched.

It’s been 100 days since you kissed her, And that doesn’t matter anymore or maybe the fact that I’m still counting means that it still matters all too much I guess what I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t hurt like a knife anymore. I can see you without wanting to run as fast as I can (I still haven’t decided whether I wanted to run to you or away from you) Somewhere during these 100 days my body got tired of being sad over someone who doesn’t deserve my tears, who never deserved me in the first place. So maybe it does still matter, but it doesn’t hurt as much and I guess that means I’m getting somewhere