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i think i would be better off if I disappeared

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I feel so empty I dont even know where to begin how to describe . I wish I could have a therapist on call for this shit that im going thru right now i feel so alone and confused and delusional, nothing in my head makes sense, none of my lies make sense, I dont even know why I fucking lied in the first place I dont even know why I did any of these things in the first place nothing makes sense everything was perfect and I fucking ruined it

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Im sitting in this stupid fucking room surrounded by memories I feel like im drowning in, memories that used to make me happy memories that used to fill me with love and joy now leave a hollow space in my heart in my body in my chest and it aches, it feels permanent and I feel scared and alone, im sitting in this stupid fucking room that we painted together and laughed and spent so many of our early nights in, the room that you helped my decorate, the room that I held you in when you were sick, the room that was covered with photos of us and notes from you god the fucking notes I read them and want to scream and cry you loved me and I fucked this all up I ruined everything and now im here sleeping in this stupid fucking room im alone and youre on the other side of the house and your room is where our room used to be but youve made it your own, you said that helps you feel better to decorate a room to use it as a distraction I couldnt feel more opposite I cant decorate this room because youre in the walls youre in every memory when I shut my eyes I cannot stop thinking about the heart you drew on my wall, I look at it and my heart aches such a small thing that has left a huge hole in my chest. we said this was for the best, that taking space is necessary but ive been here before and I dont want to make this space my space I want it to be our space like it was but it never will be again and for that id rather be dead. you came and asked me how it was going and I said I would rather die i'll admit that was dramatic but how could it not be when im in this room the room you helped me pick out the color to paint and im putting away every photo of us every note youve written me into a box and then having to take our vows and put them in a safe space because you shattered the frame and I read them and I cry and cry and cry and cry i hate it here in this stupid fucking room without you

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from The Agony of Intimacy by Jeanette Winterson, published in Granta

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Mary Oliver, from “Marengo.” [ID in alt text]

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right now, in this very moment, all i want is to hear you talk to me.

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i miss falling asleep on your chest to the sound of your heartbeat

slow and steady still

i miss pulling you closer and breathing in the sweet smell of your hair

i miss my hands on your skin

tracing hearts and sweet nothings over your back until you fall asleep

i miss you

i miss being close to you

i’m tired of crying

i feel myself reaching out grasping for something anything

but the space in front of me is empty

and we’ll fall asleep on separate sides of the bed

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bro i just need a midnight walk with my soulmate holding hands

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the feeling of being loved should not confuse, but appear in clarity

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