Destruction.

Ever since you made your exit, your grand end scene, that final cut. The last arrivederci.. My life has been nothing but destruction. A riveting plotline to a never-ending spiral that I can’t gain control of.

It’s my own doing, I know. But it reminds me so vividly of something that you once explained, something along the lines of self-inflicted punishment. It’s like I’m trying to find something that’ll hurt me more than this does. While different, it feels so much the same. 

It’s taxing; to numb oneself from the pain, the sinkhole-sized space in my heart you left behind. I’m unsuccessfully and irresponsibly trying to create a void to forget you.

But no matter how much self-depreciating, 10-steps-back, irrefutable destruction I put myself through, you’re still there. Lingering inside me, penetrating my soul. Haunting me. Reminding me that I can’t forget how real the nothingness we had was. 

I can’t put you into a pretty little box and tuck you away into a corner of my mind that is inaccessible like you can. Lock away the key and throw it into an lake of goodbye’s and if only’s. It doesn’t work like that for me. Compartmentalization registers non-compute in this overbearing, always-analyzing, wishful-thinking mind. 

No matter what I do to distract myself from you, you show up even more vividly than before and that’s what’s really fucked.

The worst sword I ever pulled was telling you how I felt. Whatever is happening right now, whatever shit storm I’m putting myself through to try to forget about you is so much worse than unrequited love. My soul knows it’s quite the opposite of that though, while yours is too stubborn and hurt to see.

Choosing myself over you is something I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself for because a world without an us, even in the most friendship of ways, isn’t much of a world at all. Is it?

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