I told you and you fell short of the mark and that’s okay - it isn’t like I love you in the way that anchors you as you drift through your anger. It hurt, but it didn’t because I wasn’t expecting anything in return. I didn’t want you to tell me that you wished you could alleviate my weight akin to how I carry your sketchbooks when your tiredness starts to seep into your bones. I am overflowing with a forgiveness that is nestled untidily under my palms. I touch you and I understand why. But it is suffocating, to be so full. I think about cutting myself open and scooping it out with the same harm-inflicting hands. I am hollow in the wrong places and I must put my kindness back inside so that I can maybe hurt a little bit less. I am drowning in forgiveness and I will pass it to you through my open wounds, I will take it out on myself so I can still successfully long for a life where you find contentment. It’s not with me; I understand that now. I pick up jokes far too late. I am embarrassed, but I know this error and this shame already, I will not lose the purest love that you might no longer deserve. I am kind; forever and ever I am kind. I need to be hollowed so that I can replenish my goodness and start again. So I no longer feel sick sitting next to you.
so like....she ditched me lowk....















