All this time
I drank you like the cure when maybe
you were the poison.
I never felt open in any way. I would never impulsively ring people and assume that they’d want to see me, or just go ‘round. I always had to sit down and think very hard before I knocked on anybody’s door. And consequently, I never really knocked.
Once you lose someone it is never exactly the same person who comes back.
I’m so fucking frustrated at myself and at my professors and my school and my friends and everyone.
Let the mental breakdowns begin.