We welcomed 2015 halfheartedly while driving home from an uneventful new years eve and woke up the next morning only to drown our sorrows in booze. We had painted smiles and pretended to give a flying fuck what the other had to say about the weather and their plans for the future. When did we lose ourselves to ourselves? When did we become so obsessed with our own individual lives that we forgot to include the other in the plan? We had our whole lives ahead of us. But neither could admit to the other that they were more than a pawn in the game of life, that they were needed.
I spent months sitting in silence, simply devising my demise. If this was all we were meant to be, why bother? I cannot count on one hand the number of times I stared out the car window and thought to myself “do it, jump”. You became, no, you were me. You were more than my other half, because I was whole without you. You were me in every sense of the word. We were one, that is, until we stopped giving a damn.
It isn’t easy, being without you. It was never easy before you, either. Perhaps the most disturbing part of losing you was that I don’t think I lost myself in your absence. I simply took a new shape, a new life, practically a new name. I morphed into the tidal wave of darkness that was stirring in the pit of my soul for years. I don’t blame you, no, but I do miss you.
janainaart
jacobvanloon
germansingergirl
origamiaround
dailybridgerton
