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.