I started feeling real again when you started crossing my mind a lot more than what’s been usual. I’m not sure which came first, or if it was a coincidence. But you will never know how much of a hero you are for staying. To this day, I’m still at a loss of words for the things you’ve been through and done just to keep in my life. And, not to mention, what you’ve said to help me to where I now am.

I’ve never been at a happier place in my life than I have since I met you. And I hope you realize that one day and tell me. You’ve brought me an unbelievable amount of wisdom and trust. And God, am I ever eternally grateful for the times you say I’m still beautiful. I do hope that one day, I become for you the angel that you eventually became for me. I love you, now and always.

“Imperfect Harmonies”

I’ll beg my way into your head if I have to.

We spoke over iced tea and a picnic bench. Sharp bits of yellow chipped off. Made it seem dangerous. It’s hard to know beauty when it’s dark.
He told me a few of his stories. I spoke to him of his books, and he claimed to have almost dropped a tear. “Those were beautiful words.”

I actually don’t receive comments such as those very often. So, beautiful I will let them be. For now.

Truth begins from these things, I’ve always told myself. Truth begins from these things. Not a single tear more.

You’ve been given enough fucking fair warnings. If you’re reading this, you’ll likely know right smack who you are.
Leave.

Symptoms. Nothing but symptoms. I’m oversized, disproportional, and lacking attractiveness here and there. And everybody sees it. On the bus, my breath takes place partly against his left arm. He turns, glares, shifts towards the window. Arrhythmia, moron. Hypnagogic episodes of when she was still here. Waking up afterwards, crying, and falling back asleep. Dreams of life-threatening bondage sex. Dreams of sorrow, grief, post-apocalyptic loneliness. Dreams of repetitive brain operations without receiving anesthesia. Anxiety comes from these things. The anxiety to sleep again comes from these things. Then, insomnia. When I wake, hard crying and apologies. Apologies to my friends for being alive. And, atop, calories, calories, calories. Thankfully, there are still doctors and other people to remind me of the unecessariness of these things. Fuck symptoms.

For years now, I’ve been thinking about the unfairness of wanting to escape every night. I think I may. I think I shall. I’ll let myself this once. Once, and hopefully, for all. I hope I get the opportunity to visit him. It’s really been too long, as we always are with each other.

Love you.