I always get this inner tug, like a rope being wrapped around myself. 

The inner tug to find you and tell you that I still love you, miss you.

But I know it will all be the same. I will just end up more sad.

I think it’s even more sad that I am willing to go through that sadness for more moments with you, even if they’re shit.

You’re just another night of me wanting to get fucked. 

Fucked in the most disastrous of ways. 

Shot after shot.

Until I don’t feel you here anymore.

i like running so much because i feel like i’m leaving the shell of me behind and becoming a better me.

but in the end i stop running and my shell catches back up.

you know. it really stings when i see you. 

on facebook.

on skype.

you really can’t talk to me.

you tell me you like me then switch to 0. is this how you feel up your lonely-ness. by dragging me down with you.

i really wish you’d speak to me. but, do I really? 

i know you’ll just drag me in with your quirks and all the old records you have. 

why does it have to be you?

i feel alone in this big room and no offense darling but i really fucking hate you for that.

When you love someone, you see them everywhere.

You see them in your bed. 

Sitting on your couch.

Laughing in the car.

You see where you have seen them a million times and it makes you smile.

So, when they leave. 

You see where you have seen them a million times and it breaks you down every time.