insomniac
It's these nights you sneak up on me when I start trying to find glimpses of your life now. Wondering if you are really so very happy without me as your new old love suggests.
I don't believe the headlines.
I see the cursor flashing as I go to write you something, anything. I know it's pointless. I don't even know why I want to do it. I don't even know why I need you or miss you or still want to kiss you. I don't know what to say to you. I don't know what I would want you to say to me. "I'm sorry," maybe, for starters.
I know it's mostly because as summer comes upon me I am remember both the bitter sweet and horrible adventure of last summer.
So here. Here, I'll write it.
Dear Fucking Asshole Douchebag Love of My Life,
I miss you.
I hate you.
I love you.
I hope your life is just as shitty as before.
I hope you have found happiness in the moment.
I want you to know I curse your name as I work my five jobs to pay off our bills.
I want you to know I still sleep on my side of the bed waiting for you to come back to me.
xo
RachelK