After you left I cried. 

For hours on my bathroom floor, sobbing. Replaying the hurt, the gun shots into my chest, over and over and over and over and over and over- hours went by. I never knew emotional pain could manifest into something so physically agonizing. 

After you left I stopped taking care of myself.

Maybe if I got bad enough you would see how much you mean to me, you would see how much I need you. As if starving myself would really be the way to get you to come home. As if my tears and undying loyalty for you would actually change how you feel.

After you left I began killing myself. 

Killing myself over what happened between us. Killing myself for being so naive, for believing in you. Killing myself slowly, deliberately. With drinking, with smoking, with driving a little too fast, with outsiders. People always ask, "Why don't you quit smoking?" Countless times you answered with a shoulder shrug, "Something has to kill me." Killing myself gave me some control back, rather than letting you keep killing me. 

Now that you're gone, it feels surreal. 

Often I imagine that my entire experience with you was just a hallucination. It feels better than trying to make sense of the shit show I let continue for so long. It's been months since I've seen your face. Months since I've heard your voice. It feels good, to finally be able to purge you from my mind. After everything we've been through, everything we've confided in each other, and promises we made. It feels good to be angry. It feels good to hate you. I know I told you I didn't, but as soon as I said it, I wanted to hate you. 

I felt it stir within me when you told me I was stupid for not reporting my sexual assault sooner. And I really fucking felt it while you were dancing with her. I looked away from you, and I felt so much. Like very emotion I ever had in regards to you suddenly flooded my mind. And yet, I still managed to put both my middle fingers up and walk out. That felt great.    

My anger won't last forever; eventually it will fade into genuinely not giving a shit about any of it. It will have happened too long ago, the memories will fade. You will fade. And I guess that means I'll fade from you too, I mean it's obvious I already have. But I'm okay with it. 

I realized after all this time cut off from you, that I still exist. I still exist without you. I can and deserve to be happy without it having to do anything with you. Your presence does not dictate my life anymore, and it never should have. I thought being willing to follow you anywhere was love- it's not. I thought I could never live with out you. But look at me now, living and shit! I can't stress how good I am finally starting to feel after realizing all of this. I want to go back and kick myself for freaking out so much, causing so much unnecessary stress to myself over someone who couldn't give less of a shit about my feelings, about ME. 

Yeah, fuck that.      

I still miss you. I still cry, and still drive a little too fast, and still get too fucked up over you. I'm no good without you, I'm better.

I exist without you

And it feels so damn good

Remember that.