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i hate the feeling of dirty hands. i wash my hands at least once a day, even when i don't have to, because they feel unclean, and i hate that. and i keep thinking about this picture i have in my head of a glass heart and your fingerprints on it. your dirty fingerprints, making its mark on the heart. and you won't let it go, because it's yours, or so you say, and even if you're messing it up, at least you have it, right. i wish you would have done that. i wish you had done that. but you didn't. and that's good, i guess. i think. it has to be.

my heart feels like it's fucking breaking. i spend a short hour wondering what's wrong with me until i realise it's you, you, it's always you. you've seeped the light out of me. i listen to the song that reminds me of you most. i feel like i am shattering from the inside out. you ruin me. you drag me down. you make me feel like i am a spool of the largest thread: one tug from you and i come unraveling.

i can't shake off the feeling that i'm missing something. i sell my soul to things that will distract me from the feeling because it makes me nervous. eventually, though, it catches up. (it always catches up, by the way.) i shiver as i feel it take.

my hands won't stop shaking. it makes my writing blurry and i'm nervous to touch glass for fear of dropping it. i have a dream we meet again. you're walking by and my arms reach out to touch you because my heart aches for it. but suddenly there's a window. you're there but i can't do anything. i start to panic. why can't you hear me? why can't you see me? there's a storm coming. rain hits the window like bullets. people are pushing me in a crowd. the ground is pulled from underneath me - and i wake up when i die. it's seven o'clock. i eat and go to school and act like nothing happened. but my hands, my hands tell the truth. they won't stop shaking.

i mean, i know they say social media isn't real. like, there's behind the scenes, right. just because someone's smiling in a photo doesn't really mean anything. but your smile looks so... happy. you look like you're glowing. you look like you've discovered the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. not a pot of gold, but the pot of gold. and it pinches my heart a bit to see you so happy without me, but i lock that thought away because it's dark dark dark and you don't deserve that. i wish, really, more than anything, truly, from the bottom of my heart, that it is real. god, i hope you are happy. otherwise what was all this separation for.

what upsets me is the forgetting of it all. i was convinced that my love was pure and bright. i thought you were one of the best parts about me. not in a self esteem sense. but in the sense that you were one of the few right decisions i have made in my life. picking you. choosing you. loving you. i was so proud to say that i loved you. it made me smile so widely to talk about you, to tell stories about you. you were like the sun. or the air. clean and happy. and today you should be on my mind but you're not. honestly i think my heart is getting over it, but my head - my head is confused. "why not him," it asks. "he is wonderful. so wonderful in every sense of the word." it cannot believe how fickle my heart is. "sorry," my heart replies flatly. "i cannot handle loving and not being loved in return."