Each time I lose control and wake up in an ambulance or on the floor or with a bloody bump on the back of my skull, I leave a fragment of myself in the neurological aftermath.
People have always told me that I’m good at being a chameleon. People have also always told me that I am fake and manipulative.
““I miss you, ya know? But I don’t at the same time. I don’t miss this.”
I learned your stubble by observing how tired you looked…less hours meant more shadow and I liked it that way, dark but inviting.
I like being sad because I feel closest to myself when I am sad.