The Dreams in Which I’m Dying are the Best I’ve Ever Had.

I can’t help it if I’m a downer on your “up”. So sorry if I’m not happy when you are jubilant, I’m not smiling when you’re soaring.¬†Goddammit how can I feel anything at all when I’m so alone? How is it that my brain keeps saying “This is not normal, look up, look him in the eye, return the smile, say hello, resist the urge to shrug,” my heart keeps telling me “He’s not the one, no one is, because you’ve been without a man in your life since you were eight, why the hell would anything change now?” Rational me versus Emotional me. It’s a fight. Fly like a butterfly, sting like a bee. I love you but you’re never here, I’m oh so queer, Gosh darnit you can’t make me smile anymore. Is it chronic- Not smiling? Missing you is like missing my hand- I use it daily, I wash it, I care for it, I abuse it, I need it. It’s gone and I can’t do anything. Cripple. Emotional, physical. I am handicapped by my loss. Angst angst angst. Now I need to breathe again. Breathe without assistance. Breathe without you. I shall fly without you once more. I am no longer lost in the abyss that was you. Because I am back. Back. To me. You and me are dead because you are dead. And now it’s just me. Looking for a new you? Not now.. not yet. Someday. I’ll think of you when I take my first step, shed this dead skin like a caterpillar about to blossom into its short lived Butterfly glory.

I love you.

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