#nevermind me

i gotta say, i’m very fond of Maki, i love her backstory and she’s so badass like ???

the smell of his skin always made me think about the sun: no matter how long and dark the night, it always rises for a bright new day. sometimes I miss it just as much as I miss the annoying typing and clicking sounds all night long — it’s so quiet now.

I miss my favorite foods I will never eat again, because I will never be able to cook them myself. I wonder if I will ever be able to drink a cinnamon mocaccino without crying my heart out (don’t think so).

and all the animes we will never watch. the games we will never play again and the ones we will never finish. the late night talks we will never have. the people we will never meet. where do all the things that never were go when they die?

not knowing requires energy and hope, and I’m so tired.

yet I suppose my heart is a tart, and I feel stupid and delusional and clinically insane at the same time, because it’s her face it wants to see. it’s her voice it wants to hear, her skin it wants to smell, her hand it wants to hold.

every day my mind circles around the same thoughts like fishes in a bowl — and every night, as the curtain of ego raises and id takes over, I can only watch my soul be left to starve. (and I’m positive this is some kind of cosmic punishment for every time I rejected the hand that tried to feed me.)

I tell myself I’m waiting for my feelings to die. I’m starving them to death, and it’s just taking a little longer than I expected — that's all.

what did I expect, though?

maybe it'd be more honest to say I’m looking for the right words. funny thing, because words are all I have — all I’ve ever had to try to translate the mess that is the heart and the feelings in it, and yet I can’t string together the ones I need to speak of the past, the present, or the future.

I still love you, you know. but I guess I couldn't live with the notion of being such a difficult person. I couldn't get out of my head, and I suppose it took a toll on me.

I guess I just grew sadder over time for being kept at arm's length. there's something derogatory about being left at a door that never fully opens, peeking through the crack to try to catch a glimpse of what's inside.

at some point, though, whatever it's inside stops mattering. be it hidden demons or light and warmth, all that remains is the notion that it's not for me. depth doesn’t survive in the shallows — it just runs out of air.