I’ve been in a daze, acknowledging this abyss I am in. I’ve been counting the days, marking days off of my calendar with anticipation that something will change. I’m feeling numb to everything. I don’t feel anything at all. Lately, life has made me numb.

I don’t feel the cool fall air between my fingers. I don’t feel you. I don’t feel that text message you sent me when you told me you loved me. I stared at it with a speechless mind. Wondering what it was that you wanted. Did you want me as an object or did you want me as an idea? The object to fulfill your needs within your sexual desires or that void you can’t fill yourself. You seek vulnerability from my emptiness. What about the idea of you and I? Happy... At least the idea of happiness.

The idea that I could keep you warm at night, and company in the morning while you’re leaving for class. Maybe we could share the same sink while brush our teeth together in the mornings. I could place my shoes on the mat next to yours near the front door to keep the dirt from treading through the space we would share. The idea of unity is one that I don’t feel.

I wonder when will I start to feel or when I stop feeling. I think it was when I felt it the worst. She left.

The impulsive that takes place when the oil pops on my smooth melanin skin. She took away from me like the oil did when it left my skin a lighter tone from those 2nd degree burns. You see, my skin it healed itself. Of course there’s still a remarkable blemish to remind me of the pain I felt. The blemish will remind me of the healing it went through. But me, I couldn't heal myself like my body inherently did with those burns. It took time. It took having to relocate myself and my thoughts. I had to find a place to bury these thoughts and feelings. Then I had dig them up again and deal with them because they were unconsciously taking a toll on my everyday life. I had to acknowledge these vicarious symptoms and potentially heal myself.

I never took a class in How to Love 101 or Healthy Relationships 102. It was one of those things I had to teach myself through pain, anguish, depression, misery, happiness, excitement, longing, shrooms, mary jane, MDMA, counseling, writing, photography and other things I probably shouldn’t mention here. But honestly, I’m fucked. I don’t hold the emotional capacity to love you. It’s not you, it’s me.

I’ve mastered the hardest thing ever. I love myself. I love my flaws, the way I think, the way I talk, my struggles, my strengths, my curiosities, the whole package. It’s not that I don’t want to feel something I guess it’s that I just don’t feel anything. Fear has taken me to places I would never execute to my least favorite cookie to witness. Fear is worse than actual physical pain if you ask me. I guess I should ask you