june 19th. you did what you said you'd never do, and helped me pack. you told me we'd stay friends, I said i'd never stop loving you. it felt impossible, i'd loved you for over seven years. i was the luckiest man alive, and all I can do is thank you for holding me close for so long. you let me lay on you one last time, you hugged me, you kissed me, you told me you still loved me and always will. you cracked jokes while I diminished my existence in your life to three bags. I've always been diminished to three bags.
you were beautiful, yet cruel. i hadn't found comfort in you in almost a year, and you fell in love with some world, some man, some vague idea of me every other week. the person you'd become was cold, avoidant, and filled with plot holes. it wasn't that I was immature, it was that I wanted you more and couldn't treat love like a professional would. we both made mistakes, we both hurt. i wanted nothing more than for you to be my soulmate.
while i'm doing better already, i regret sleeping on the couch our last night together. what i'd give to lay my head on your chest again, to feel complete with you again.