I think I’ve forgotten how to let feelings out.
I used to have words for all of these things that I was feeling. They were tortured metaphors, maybe. Or cliches. Or ideas done to death, but damnit they were mine! They were my thoughts into the world, ink spilled reflections of me, if only digitally.
And now? Now I’ve forgotten what feeling even is.
From the outside, everything is so much better. I’ve met someone and it’s going well. I’m terrified of when that changes and won’t even let myself think about if it doesn’t. Is this what getting what you always wanted feels like?
If so I want a do over.
But there are no real do overs in life, just do agains. And those I have down. Another broken heart, another boy left broken. It hasn’t happened yet, but it will.
Another drink on a Tuesday, another cigarette smoked while watching the sun disappear. It’s funny how flirting with death is how I feel most alive. Okay, well, maybe isn’t funny isn’t the right word.
But I mean, it’s not the wrong word either, is it? Dark humor is still humor. Some days, it’s all we’ve got.
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