Without

 (part one) 

If you’re bleeding to death, do you cut yourself again? I’ve tried. Again and again. Until I’ve realised the futility of what I’m doing. Because killing myself isn’t the answer. It never was. I was caught in a web of indecision and frustration, and anger. Seething anger. Not at anyone, but myself. Just me. I did what I wanted to do to anyway. I drank till I couldn’t stand. Smoked till I couldn’t breathe. Killed myself in memory of you. Your perfect, perfect self. Except every drop of alcohol, and every drag of a cigarette never filed this hole in my chest where my left lung used to be and when I went overboard again and again and again I was accused of lying and failing and I thought I’d never be whole again. I called you again and again. I spoke to you more than I should have. I poured my heart out to you for the millionth time but you remain silent. I can see you smile but you no longer smile for me. I can hear you laugh but you no longer laugh for me. I can hear your voice but I can never hear you call my name the same way you used to.

It's strange how I've stopped longing for that. All of that. It's been a while, but I've forgotten how to feel the same. That doesn't stop me, and I wonder what will. You've taught me one more thing, you know? Perhaps it's the last thing you've ever taught me, but I value it over and above anything else. You've taught me that living with holes is easier than constantly trying to fill them. When I try to fill the hole you left behind I'm constantly made aware of it. I'm reminded of you and everything about you. I could talk about you for hours and hours. You've changed me, in more ways than one. So if someday when my blood's drowning in alcohol, I might call you.

I won't ask you to answer my questions, and I won't ask you to give me meaning. I won't ask to be yours and I won't ask you to remember me. I only want to ask one thing of you. One simple thing.

Forgiveness.

I might slip up sometimes. I might forget what I've come to accept and I just want to tell you, once again, whether you're listening or not. It doesn't matter that I don't exist for you. It doesn't matter to me that I don't matter to you anymore. I've come to accept that. And I've realised one fairly simple thing.

It's okay.

Maybe I'll never move on, and maybe a part of me is going to be stuck here forever, never wanting to leave my memory of you but the rest of me is trying to say goodbye. I can't get myself to. It's difficult. So much so that I begin to resent myself for even trying, but I will try. I won't try for me, I'll try for you. 

I'll try.

So tonight, while the tears continue to be shed, while the blood continues to be bled, and while words continue to be said, I'll stop. 

Good Night. 

and.