Soft And Only, Lost And Lonely

Yearning for someone I haven’t met yet 29 / nb

[softandonlymoon]

Accidentally stumbled across an old server we shared together tonight. I was looking for something nice but instead I found you. And once I found you, I started slipping. Old playlists. Old pictures. Before everything got bad. Before I made a ‘break up playlist’ despite the fact we were still together. I hate you.

[softandonlymoon]

Maybe I’m the problem

[softandonlymoon]

I look for love everywhere I go but love looks like you, and you’re not here anymore

[softandonlymoon]

I just want to hear your voice and listen to you talk about anything. My attention is yours forever.

[softandonlymoon]

Looking back, it’s evident that the cracks were there. We’d put too much strain on something good. Same as always, rather than pointing out that we were about to break I opted to try stick it back together. You did too, as much as I would love to say you didn’t, but I think neither of us wanted to admit what we knew to be true.

I don’t hate you. There was, however, a point in time where I thought quite often that none of what we had made me happy. I would convince myself that this was where I was supposed to be not by reliving memories of you in my head. The same memories that haunt me every few weeks. Unfortunately, they’re the good ones.

For a long time I told myself - convinced myself - that I was a needy person but I don’t know if that’s true. I think I’ve been so deprived of the bare minimum that it felt like I was asking for the stars when I’d hunt for affection. How you used to. When did you stop, I wonder?

Even in our final moments, I never stopped. I reached out with the intent to fix and you called me. Your hand was guided by a chatbot and you admitted to what we’d both been denying. This was it. This was always going to be it. A year or two of love bombing followed by giving me the worst withdrawals of my life.

While I don’t hate you, I certainly don’t love you. But your talons were dug deep and I had to rip you out and patch up the bleeding before something else I needed broke. You made it look so easy. It took you one month before you found someone new and shared that you loved them. That’s when reality sunk in that I was, yet again, nothing.

I don’t like being nothing. I don’t think I was born capable of being without someone. I like myself - I’m okay with myself. But I like feeling as if I belong, especially to someone who loves me and shows it. It’s as if I was force fed and now told to starve. How do you expect me to fast after I tasted something delicious?

[softandonlymoon]

I’ve been overindulging on fantasies as of late. If you tasted what I dream of you’d agree it’s sweet. I can feel my mouth filling with honey as the idea of you enters my mind. The bees in my stomach love it when they can cultivate the blush on your cheeks, and the way your hair curls. They pollinate my throat as your eyes find mine, as your thumb glides across the back of my hand and suddenly I’m choking. Bees and honey and petals drip my mouth as I remember your touch, as I remember the closeness. The warmth. Fighting back the urge to kiss you makes the petals turn to flowers and suddenly I’ve gathered enough for a bouquet. I’m sat here alone, with honey in my throat and petals in my teeth. I wish it was real. I wish you were real.

God I wish it was real.

[softandonlymoon]

I wonder if you thought of me tonight

[softandonlymoon]

Sometimes from my window I can hear the sound of cars driving past in the early hours. I often find myself confused why someone would be driving around at such an hour, but then remember I’m awake too. It’s odd to think of you in such a scenario because I don’t drive, but it’s calming to imagine us travelling home at night. We take it in turns to not exhaust the other; you drove us on the way here, so I decided to drive us home. I’d just been talking to you about something that I forgot to mention previously; something I don’t consider important at all, but something you’ll ask me to tell you again when you wake up. It’s hard to get in my own head around you when you care about the smallest thing. I knew you’d fallen asleep because there were no follow up questions, no comments and agreements. Just the soft sound of your breathing as you slipped into sleep beside me. It’s little moments like these that I like. Maybe one day it’ll be us driving past someone’s home after midnight.

[softandonlymoon]

Often times at night I find my mind wondering and eventually yearning for something I don’t have. I’ve had tastes of it before, but there’s always been a few ingredients missing. That’s how you came to exist. I don’t know you, nor your name - or even what you look like. Every night it changes and I find myself longing for something more. A few nights ago I thought about us meeting in a bar. I was working a late shift and you were there looking so pretty under that light. I was lucky enough to serve you and even strike up conversation; much to the chagrin of my colleague who got stuck with the drunk regular. I asked you if it’d been a long day and you simply asked if it was that obvious. You’d been tasked with handling a merger at work that was supposed to go off without a hitch, but when does it ever.

Last night we were moving in together. A different you entirely but undoubtedly you. An apartment with no furniture - unless you count a tin of paint and a step ladder furniture. And even then, half the paint was split between us; a quarter on me from your prank and a quarter back on you to show that we share in this house. You looked so cute with those round frame glasses and bunny smile. The way you looked at me was what I yearn for the most. You never even had to say it. I could tell from your eyes that it was real.

But as much as I want it to be. It’s not. You’re not real and you’re not asleep next to me wearing my shirt that is far too big on you. I’m not brushing your hair and snuggling in close. I’m not able to smell that perfume you always wear; your favourite and now mine. You’re not stirring in my arms to give me a kiss before falling asleep again.

But I can dream about it. I can write about it. And even if it were real, even if you were beside me clinging to my arm, I’d still write about you. I would always write about you.