“It is your blood in my veins. Tell me how I’m supposed to forget.”
What time of the day does it become “early” in the evening to be in pyjamas instead of just “late” to be staying in them. Because I’ve hit the point of staying in pyjamas all day again. Energy to get out of bed? I don’t have it. Effort to want to look pretty and put a cute outfit on? Basically none existent.
I feel so tired. And I have no explanation as to why. Because it’s not like I don’t sleep. Sure. I don’t sleep as much as I
want need to on a weekday to be a well functioning human being. But I definitely make up for it on the weekend by sleeping until well in to the afternoon. But I still wake up tired. I feel exhausted and it’s nothing to do with how much sleep I’m getting.
When I said I have no explanation as to why I feel so tired. That was a lie. I might be “sleeping in” until the afternoons on a weekend but if I am being honest there is never a huge amount of sleeping happening. I just lay down. And think. And what I’m thinking about whilst I lay there and what I’m thinking about right now is you.
I don’t want to love you anymore because I want to sleep. I’m counting sheep but they don’t seem to want to let me sleep. So the hours tip toe around one another, while I’m wide-awake, talking the ears off of the sheep above my head.
Because I want to be able to start talking or dating someone else without thinking of you. Without comparing them to you. I want to be able to do things without linking them back to you. I want to be able to go out to eat and not order something because I know it’s both of our favourites. I want to be able to kiss someone else and not think about the swirls of your tongue on the roof of my mouth, like defined brush strokes on a familiar canvas.
I don’t want to love you anymore because I don’t want to feel so heartbroken all the time. Because it is all of the time. And I don’t want my heart to break over and over again when people casually ask me how I am and I have to lie and say I’m fine or when people nonchalantly question me about you. I don’t know where you are or how you are or what you’re doing or what your favourite thing to do is. But they don’t ever stop asking me.
I don’t want to love you anymore because the stupidest things remind me of you. Correction. Everything reminds me of you.
Because it’s hard to move on.
Because I don’t know how to.
Because I’m not good at it. My report card would read: excellent at sharing, being excitable, giving advice and being a loyal friend. Needs to work on mastering the dynamic elements of falling in love and getting over people.
I don’t want to love you anymore because I have forgotten how to love myself. I won’t shower, eat, sleep or smile for days. It’s all forced. I feel forced. I want to be myself again. I want to eat and sleep and smile. These are the things I want to love, again, more than you.
I don’t want to love you anymore because it’s never fun being the only one in love. It feels rather like you’re kissing a plastered wall or sending undelivered pieces of mail. It’s miserable and lonely. I feel miserable and lonely. And I don’t want to love you anymore because then maybe I’ll finally be able to find someone who loves me back.