Like a sadness I can’t shake. You were right. That time when facebook fucked up and I got all the consolatory and concerned messages, and you got none- you were right. People probably knew that you’d be okay, and you are. They knew I wouldn’t, and I’m not.

I’m going through my midlife crisis early it seems. I can’t eat because it’s too much effort to chew. I sat at a cafe for hours and hours today because I just couldn’t go to the big empty house and face myself. I tried to eat this delicious brownie and managed to finish only half; it made me nauseous. I’m such a cliche, it’s stupid. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t focus on my work, I’m perpetually two seconds away from tears. I ordered a guitar today with my roommate. It’ll come in five days. I’m going to get a tattoo in March, my first one. I’ve already decided on the design.

I can do all of this. I can eat the mixed-berry ice cream that my roommate made at home, and I can sing along to Lana Del Rey and Augustana. I can change the wallpaper on my cellphone and desktop, and shift around files and rename folders on my laptop. I can try to hit on the deadbeat barista with a bandana. But all the while my heart beats a dull tattoo beneath my skin: I want you, I want you. Honey, I want you. So bad.

I miss you. You don’t miss me. It’s that simple really, isn’t it?

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