i hate those kinds of dreams now. the mornings after always feel so hollow, as if i’d lost everything all over again. i wonder why these dreams bring me back to happier days when i know the reality and naïveté lurking behind those memories.

specific feelings like sleeping in another’s arms, the feel of their gaze, the taste of their lips, it’s all so ridiculous now that i’m writing it down. it’s cliche, but i don’t believe those feelings anymore.

i don’t want to think about the future. i don’t want to think about the past. i don’t even want to think about the present. i want to lose myself in distractions for as long as i can before the consequences come for me. the rest of the world is waiting to press ‘resume’ even if it looks nothing like the reality they were living before the pandemic. and even though i’ve been saying that i’m waiting too, my world crumbled before they sent us all into self isolation. i don’t have a life to return to. the one i was building fell apart right before the world did.

so i don’t care if i’ve disconnected with the rest of the world. there’s no one attaching me to it anymore.

the idea of such people existing seems so foreign now that there are none who can say they understand me anymore.

those who knew me then don’t really know me now and those that know me now know little of what i was like then. of these two parts that make my current whole, there are few i’ve bothered to explain myself to, and fewer who understood where i was coming from.

past leads to present and present leads to future; at the end of this train of thought, the boundaries between those three segments of time are as pointless as drawing the line between night and day to me.

is it bad that this phenomenon doesn’t bother me in the slightest? that though living in the outside world feels as if i’m staring from behind a pane of glass, i’m more content with being a spectator than a participant?

i haven’t felt lonely or pitiful or desolate. i no longer yearn for the things i used to. i’m still in love with the idea of love, but i’ve learned to deeply loathe all that it can bring. i’ve taken the gamble a couple times before, and needless to say, i firmly believe that my perspective of the world permanently changed after each fallout. they say that you should never meet your heroes, but i didn’t think the same line of caution should’ve been applied to dreams and concepts as well.

a being who lives in a different world than you, drifting further every time you feel as if you’re getting closer, yet always out of reach. in a good way, you said. it’s appreciation more than anything, you said. like the amazement a kid feels when looking through a telescope for the first time.

i stay out of reach, not because i’m teasing, but because i haven’t bothered to look back. but keep reaching if you want; you know how you’ll never get close enough to become to me what i am to you.

i fall for the bad guys, knowing they’ll break my heart; i fall on the good guys, knowing they’ll break my fall.

i never liked quiet boys, the ones captivated by but deeply afraid of the world beyond the confines of their comfort, the ones who looked at me with wonder in their eyes, like i would be the one to save them from their empty existences. a friend once told me that those who fell in love with me always fell hard. and it was this fact that made it impossible for me to love them back. men like that offer no challenge, no opportunity for me to grow.

i want to be happy, but the truth is that i’m a bitter, vain and angry person. no quiet, shy, reserved man is ever going to be able to tame someone like that. this isn’t saying that i need someone to dominate me entirely, that’s a whole other set of problems on its own, but i need someone like me. someone who can be soft when they need to be and stand their ground if the time ever calls for it. i need someone with drive and spirit, an energy to match mine perfectly. i need someone who i want to become a better person for, and who feels they’d want to do the same for me. i won’t settle for any less.

i used to fantasize about traveling the world, seeing cities and countries that seem alien to everything i know now, somewhere across not only state or country borders, but also further out across oceans into other continents. i get a taste of what it feels like to be that free every now and then, and when i do, i can’t help but reminisce on all the things i missed about home.

therein lay my current predicament. i spent over half a year away from home, culled another life somewhere across the planet, began to fantasize about san francisco the same way i used to with foreign cities. now, it feels strange but not in a bad way. it feels like seeing an old friend after ages apart, like forgetting how to do something after not doing it for too long, like the thin layer of dust that settles on tabletops when they’re left unused.

i haven’t had the chance to reintroduce myself to my city again, but it will always be that, my city. i don’t really talk about it much, but i’ve brought outsiders here to temporarily share the life i’ve been living and i’m proud each time they recount the memories they made while here with such warmth.

i’ve dropped friends in the past because they, sometimes of no fault of their own, exhausted me every time we were together. i got emotionally tired, and the people who did consciously love and support me didn’t get what they deserved from me. i decided after graduation that i would distance myself from anyone who made me feel that way again. if i don’t trust you, what the hell am i doing trying so hard to maintain our relationship?

i lost sight of myself somewhere along the way, and though i’ve gone looking, i have to ask now if i’m potentially not meant to find her. maybe i need to become someone better, someone who knows what comes next.

i’ve been thinking about it, about what could be wrong because i’ve dropped all my bad habits and it still lingers. i’m starting to wonder to myself if it’s psychosomatic, if my sadness, fear, and hurt are manifesting in my body.

i don’t know how i should be taking this, but with no options for distraction or escape right now, i’m more unreactive than i thought i’d be. i’ve been spending my days completely detached, waiting for time to pass, not really living lately. but every now and then i see something, remember everything, and suddenly my chest tightens, my eyes sting, and my ruse breaks for just a second long enough to register the sorrow.

i always bring myself back to that empty, detached space right after, reign everything back in like patching cracks in a near bursting dam. my heart hurts too much to dwell on what’s happened and i’m going to be isolated and alone for a while longer. if i stop and think about it too long, it’ll eat me alive.

i find homes in people, but not just any and every person. i make homes in people who make me feel safe, when i was a child it was my mother, when i was a teenager it was my friends, and now? i don’t know where i moved before this, but as of now i’m homeless.

if it were only one person i could write it off, but person after person, friend after friend, have confronted me about the choices i’m making, telling me how much they’re hurting in my place. i may be hurting, but i know i have no right to. i can’t show weakness regardless of how much i may or may not need to. it’s a stupid irrational sense of saving face, something instilled into me by my culture.

i guess, last night, i was looking forward to sleeping forever, if just so i could die happy in my dreams. it’s a sense of escape from a pain i’ve never felt, a pain i never wish to feel again. i tried numbing myself, but i guess i just managed to magnify the storm of feelings wrecking me inside. the fresh cuts on my thighs stinging me every stride i take, the scratches and bruises upon my face, the blotches of back and blue on my knees and arms, they help me forget that you ever brushed your fingers across my skin, laid your lips up on my flesh, whispered heavenly promises into my ear.

i now look as i feel inside, and it’s both freezing up and burning down at the same time. how i look now, is a pure reflection of the pain, sorrow, envy, and emptiness i’ve been feeling the past month.

you are no longer the boy i fell in love with, and i guess, last night, i killed the girl you did.