there’s so many things that I think to say to you. mostly when I’m alone and singing in my car. mostly words that aren’t my own because I can’t fathom you without assistance. when I finally muster the courage, or start to break, I can’t choose.

I want someone who cares about what music I listen to. I want someone who cares about what movies I like to watch. I want someone who cares about what my favorite flower is. I want someone who cares about what I’m saying enough to remember it days later.

I want to harass you on instagram. I want to recover your deleted contact. I wish I didn’t remove you as a friend.

the audacity I have to gaslight myself into thinking I’m faking my chronic pain.