Cry into a cup and promise yourself it won’t happen again.
Promise yourself this is the last night of self-hatred.
Promise yourself tomorrow is a new day, a new start.
By
Updated 5 years ago,August 24, 2020
Drink too much on a weekday.
Listen tochannel ORANGEand see how many songs you’re able to get through before you roll crying.
See how long your heart remains stubborn.
How long you keep up the brave face youve spent so long perfecting.
Break at Bad Religion every time.
Cry into a cup and promise yourself it wont happen again.
Promise yourself this is the last night of self-hatred.
Promise yourself tomorrow is a new day, a new start.
You cant keep swallowing nostalgia thinking it will turn into something good.
You cant keep fucking sadness and thinking it will birth happiness.
Delete the thread of messages.
Throw out the box of letters they sent you.
Youve held onto them for nearly seven years.
Realize its time to let go.
You were supposed to a long time ago.
Read the screenshots of the deleted texts.
Of course, you saved them.
Of course, you kept some sort of proof that this wasnt imagined.
That this wasnt some sick dream you had.
Thewe were so closeagain.
I mean, dont burn it.
Fire freaks you out.
Burn it in your mind.
Or, take a stab at.
Sage the damn place.
Get furniture theyve never touched.
Go to an estate sale and thumb through vintage photographs.
Give these strangers a home.
Youre always doing that.
Always giving strangers a place to stay.
A place to crash.
A place inside your heart way before you should.
Perform an exorcism on every spirit lingering on your skin.
Turn your laptop off.
Put your phone underneath a pillow and have a go at forget its there.
Try, try, try.
Thats what this is.
Trying to get over it.
Trying to move on without looking back.
Trying not to repeat the same mistakes Orpheus made.
Trying, trying, trying.
Let your mouth become acquainted with another.
Dance until the place shuts down.
Sweat pooling at your every curve, keep going.
Push your body to the edge.
When you cant feel your feet, know its time to go home.
Laugh with friends and hold a cigarette between your fingertips before chucking it in the nearest trash can.
It wasnt even lit.
Smoking kills, you say.
But so does this ache.
So does this remembering.
Maybe you dont forget as much as you accept.
Maybe its not even about this part.
Maybe its about what happens next.
