I’m supposed to be writing a paper. I can sit here and spill out my thoughts, but none of my thoughts are ever where they’re supposed to be. My mind is wandering among the stars while my heart is somewhere in New York, or maybe Pennsylvania. It changes with the weeks, with the days, the hours, some times the seconds. Sometimes I feel you and other times you’re so far that I can’t even breathe you in.

This whole idea is foreign to me. It’s been so long since I’ve been awake at this hour without substance. I forgot why that was.

On the good days, I miss him and then I remember he’s not who he was. On the bad days, I just miss him.

I don’t want to date other people. I don’t want to pretend someone else will make me happy. I don’t want to be open with someone else. I don’t want to explain myself to someone. I just want them to understand me because they were there.

You understand me because you lived life with me while I was living. I was this florescent child who painted in the clouds. Now I live amongst the dead whose feet have never left the ground. I don’t remembering coming down. I don’t remember suffocating myself beyond the point of destruction, but it happened and I’m sorry. I’m sorry if you can’t love that, because somedays I can’t love it either. I didn’t mean to make you fall in love with a corpse and while you’re off in New York, I hope you know I’m learning to need you less than before.

You kissed me and I felt a spark. And I wasn’t ready to run in the opposite direction. Then the morning happened and as we watched Glee on your bed, I smiled and thought this is what I want for always. I don’t think things like that about you. I’m not supposed to. You’ve brought me to ruin and now you’re leaving me in the God-forsaken town to rot.

Thank you.