Remembering You Still in My Fucking Feelings

I’ve been thinking of you again. When am I not? I picture you in my mind just the way you were the first time I saw you, with that long brown hair and the eyes that are never really happy, never satisfied. And then that glorious smile, a rare sight, it lit up the room.

Maybe that’s what I hang around for, that smile. What I’d let you make me cry for. What makes the pain worthwhile. That smile. Pictures don’t do it justice. You have to see it live and in person to understand it’s quality.

I think about all the people who’ve lost someone and wish they could just see their beloved smile one more time in person. Then I am glad you are alive, that I might see that smile in person once in a while. I hope it doesn’t disappear as soon as you see me.

Sure you will hurriedly paste on a new one, a fake one. I could care less about that one. Never was a fan of your mask. I much prefer the adorable monster underneath. He doesn’t tend to come out in public. It’s funny because I know how much you love the light.

I suppose I shouldn’t hope for too much. Still, it will be nice to see you. Hopefully it doesn’t destroy me. My therapist said I should have a support system, someone to talk to if things go bad at the show. I don’t even know who to count on. Who could really understand?

Suddenly I remember what you smell like. I never should have known. I crave that irresistible smell now. But it’s quite rude to go about sniffing people and you wouldn’t let me close enough anyway. Why do you have to smell so perfect? And be just the right size? And have so many qualities that are so very right for me? Why can’t you just be another asshole I can easily dismiss? Why can’t you just be nice to me? Why do I torture myself with questions to which there are no answers?

I’m starting to enjoy being alone.
If I’m not careful
I may never give it up.

Last updated March 30, 2018