Always just a phase.

"A month doesn't change anything," she says.

This 'stranger' believes it so wholeheartedly.

The liar that claimed she would always be there for me, clearly didn't.

The irony is not lost on me.

Probably not...

I miss you.

There's no other way of putting it.

The hole in my head doesn't get any smaller trying to think otherwise.

Do you think about me when our music plays? Do you play any of our music? The shit we used to listen to, living like there was no tomorrow? Do you feel the corners of your eyes starting to soak? Do you find yourself wiping them away, too? Constantly, and in a crowded room full of happy people?

Just sitting there, numb, and trying to blend in? Just when you think it's finally working?

Do you find yourself wondering how I must be doing too? I do, but it only makes me sad to think that you don't. Why would you?

Do you get woken up in the middle of the night too? Thinking that it was just a bad dream? I have a lot of those, but you know that. Do you find yourself come to the realization that it isn't just a dream, and hate waking up, too?

Do you still blame me for everything? Do you still think I didn't just want you to be happy? Do you still make me out to be the enemy? I understand, I really do.

Do you ever think about all those times, and all those nights? I try really hard not to, but the harder I seem to try, the worse it seems to get. Do you ever feel that way?

Do you remember all the stupid jokes we had? All the lame puns I would make, and how you would giggle like a little kid? Or how I'd always try to protect you from the mean, cold world?

Do you remember everything I just carelessly threw away? And more if you had asked for it?

Probably not.

Just a few bad moves.

So this whole thing about being constantly miserable.

How much longer can I play this fucked up game with myself, I constantly wonder. There's got to be a time where I just stop, right? Grow up, maybe. Or whatever the fuck it's supposed to be that makes it stop. Everything's eventual, I suppose, but death is eventual and I don't feel like waiting that long. For it to stop, I mean. Not that I haven't been goth as fuck, and everything. A change of pace would be nice. Do I even want that? A change of everything. I want to start over.

I want to forget all about the heartbreak. The constant heartbreak, over and over. Like a scratched up record on loop. Like a curse, or perhaps just a few bad moves. A few horrible decisions, a few wrong steps.
Each and every time, just like the last. As if I've always been asking for it, as if it's what I've always wanted all along.

People have asked me multiple times if I enjoy putting myself through this. If I enjoy being miserable, if I look forward to it. It would make sense, I suppose, wouldn't it? Just some kind of twisted fucking irony. Not that it ever isn't, but I wish it would just be lost to me sometimes. I'm tired of picking up on it, finding it in the most convenient of places, placed like a word that fits in a short poetic piece. Fuck.

Why?

If no other answers, I wish to have that one. Let it be the only one I ever get, but let it arrive, late but definitely. Speaking of some twisted fucking irony, it's the only one I've never gotten. The yearning evidently exists for a reason then, I suppose. As always of course.

Fuck this in between bull shit. Being stuck is never any fun, but being stuck in the past is exceptionally fucked. Having to live with your decisions can be tough as it is, but having to live with someone else's is a little worst.