Crash

I still have a hard time figuring out you're not going to come back.

There are days I feel quite good, because unconsciously I think you will eventually come back to me.
But you won't.

And when I finally manage to hear it, I feel the hole deep inside and the associated pain. I feel the frustration to not have been able to make proper farewell. Fuck, you never have any second chance for farewell you know, when the other is gone, he's gone. I would have liked to at least be allowed to tell you the things I feel.  The time you had nearly left me, a few months ago; I had faced you and had been able to tell you everything. This time, I will never have the chance to express my farewell correctly.
And I will bear an hefty grudge against myself for that, all my life.

Everyday I cry. I cry because I miss you, because I'm left here without a clue of what's ahead. Because I know I won't know this feeling again.

I wish I could hate you, this way it would be a lot easier. But I just can't, because I love you and I'm bound to respect your choices.
Even when they hurt like shit.

I'm left here, unable to watch movies I saw with you. Movies you certainly don't even remember we watched together. But things have meaning to me. The tinier it was, the bigger the impact. And thus, I hardly have time to rest, since you haunt my mind at least 90% of the time.
At day.

The worst part that remains is the night.
I'm now used to dreaming of you, of realities where I am happier or at least, you are.
The point is, when I am sleeping, who is cast in the dream is not me. It's the me of 1 month ago. The me who took the whole thing in his fucking face, unable to do anything. Today, I can face it, because I have much enough hatred and pain inside to help me fight back.
Yes, it might be the proper use of this expression. To fight back.
Even though I'm not fighting with anything.
The hatred I bear against myself is much more powerful than I am, and while I can't handle the situation, I can handle the hatred now, and live with it. My old self could not.
So at night, he can't do anything at all. And when I wake up alone, in this room whose walls were painted by  everybody but you, there is a bitter taste in my throat. And I can feel the hole in my stomach telling me " You had it coming, eat it ".

So I do.

That's true, I'm just standing relying on the most powerful thing I'm left with; aka my anger and rage.
You would hardly recognise me If you were to see me now; but what can I say?
My feelings for you haven't changed an inch.
But my personnality had to in order not to collapse on itself.

Yes, you're gone, and today I don't manage to figure it out by myself. This is just gonna make the night more difficult.
I spend my day focusing on an internal struggle I can't win.
But that I have to fight.

I have to fight back.
Against myself

You're gone and I would like to believe, as I sometimes let my mind wander and think of it, by weakness, that you'll one day come back and be happy with me.
But you won't, that's the reality I'm in.
You won't ever come back, and I'll have to live with this wound which opens anew each time something reminds me of us.

Because us is no longer a reliable pronoun.
But what hurts the most is that very deep inside, in my heart, and even though you didn't want to say it.
You know too.

It's never gonna be again.

Drunk

Yes, tonight, I was drunk.

Yes I drank, because I wanted to know how alcohol would taste now that you're gone.
And honestly.
It doesn't taste that good.

That might be because I've changed quite a lot lately, but I didn't feel any feeling of happiness, any boost for my drastically lowered amount of hopes. By the way, I just felt like my head was spinning, and that was all.

I have to admit, yes, it made me forget. Not what had happened, but it helped me fool myself and made me feel like it was not over. For 1/10th of a second, I even thought of sending you a mere texto to ask you if everything was okay. It took me a second to realise my mistake and abort the looking-for-my-mobile- phone process. Cause you're gone, and I can't do anything. According to the calendar, it's even been 1 month you're gone.

March, 13th. And it ain't got much better since then. I just feel like I've changed, and am still changing, sealing my old self inside so that he would be able to rest a little. Because in the end, when I understood I wouldn't be strong enough to be through you, there were only two lucid choices. The first one was the kind you should avoid as far as other people are concerned, ans I'm glad I didn't choose it, since I wouldn't be there to write it otherwise. The second one was to use the total amount of strenght I had with me, this tiny, ludicrous power; and , not being able to mold it into something able to overcome the ordeal, at least create someone else who could. Some say such things completely reprogram the mind. I do think so in fact. And so today, it's not easier. I've just changed, toughened.

Long story short, tonight I was waiting, because usually I used to drink when you had a party, and I was doing so to forget and hide I was anxious and worried. And after having drunk too much and being sick, I would wait for  your message, simply saying
 "Je suis rentré mon coeur, tout s'est bien passé! Tu me manques beaucoup, je t'aime! <3>

Today I miss you, but you don't miss me
 Today I still love you, but you don't anymore.
So tonight you might have a party, if so you must be having fun right now, maybe with some random guy; whatever. It's none of my business. Anymore.

I learned your mom called mine last Sunday. It's always hard to learn that people on your side still care about me, because It means I have existed. But soon, I won't be more than a memory.

While you'll never be.

I'll end this up reminding a simple conversation I had yesterday with a friend of mine. Telling I could never call you an ex, because you were so different from the others, I could just call you emma.

But you, you certainly already refer to me as an ex.

You certainly smile, you're certainly happy, maybe even meeting new guys. And I hope one will succeed where I failed.
I'll always hope you're happy, as I know I'll always love you and my promises have never sounded as true as  now.

Tonight there's not 1 hour left on the clock before tomorrow, and I will finish this paper without receiving a single message from you.

And if you ever happen to land there by some mistake I'll have you know.

It's fucking tough

And in the end, I would wake up with a serious hangover, with you making fun of me; and I would just be happy to be with you.


So tomorrow, I'll know no hangover.

Nor happiness.

Ice tea

In fact, I'm afraid to write what's ahead on badukandco, because deep inside I still hope that, if one day you finally get to go there, you will see how much I love you, and how painful it is to bear your departure.

I also hope your english won't get better than mine; because if you end up reminding of badukandco.
There's not much room between the two places.

So I'd be screwed.

I just don't want to write a lot there, the simple need to spit the harshest words, to make it as small as possible so that each word can show how much it hurts by itself. At least you can see things clearly without any useless clothing.

Because in a small text, I still can say it hurts, much, and I miss you; this time you can even add too before much. I still hope you're happy, more than anything, I still bear a grudge against myself. I'm still changing.

For the worse.

When the analysis is longer than the actual game

Spitting on people's been a lot easier lately.