The Diary of a Wolf

When will I hear your name-

{No. Not just your name, I mean YOUR name}

Without feeling the blow to my stomach?

When a passing mention of you doesn’t level me to the fucking ground?

When will I reach the point where I can be nostalgic? Have that dreamy reflective expression on my face instead of being this … this figure that loses its shape when faced with the memory of you?

How much longer?

Please tell me it’s not long, now.

As ‘okay’ as I’ve ever been.

Then there are the nights.

[And it is always night]

When the ache hits.

My heart feels stretched too thin.

I can hardly breathe with the intensity of it.

Is it stretched or is it reaching?

I don’t know. Whatever it is, I want it to stop.

It won’t find you anywhere.

Held on with everything I have.

It makes my stomach roll, and my skin feel like it’s burning.

I love you. I want to love you.

Not so long as I live.

Not in death.

Not in any parallel, timeline, or plane.

I curse you, damn you, in every shade and form I may take.

All of this rage, and the only blood to show for it is my own.

Of you.

Of me.

Of this life. This sad fucking joke of a life.

For the very first time, I wish I’d never met you.

The heartache outweighs the ecstasy.

I would choose the pain of never knowing you, over the agony of being loved and then unloved by you.

And you’ve let me down. Every. Single. Time. 

Which one of us is worse? 

The fool or the torturer?

She was waiting for, 

Though she’s lying on the floor, 

Without a heartbeat, 

She’s happy somewhere.”