but sometimes i get fucking pissed.
it’s not even that i miss him or you or freaking that time at all. of course i’m nostalgic about it, but really i get fucking pissed.
i get fucking pissed when i see her holding you like you could ever mean for her what you meant to me.
i get fucking pissed when i see the same clothes that you used to wear. the fabrics that i’ve breathed in the scents of. the tiny x’d stitching that i’ve memorized by learning the ridges of your unpressed shirts.
i get fucking pissed when i see you’ve learned how to not fuck up a hair cut. when i see that you finally have the confidence that you couldn’t have before to finally, for fucking once, demand that that mexican hair dresser stop chomping at your head.
but probably what fucking sucks the most is how your eyes are no longer as sunken as they once were. how you seem happier and more rested and overall more alive now that i’m not in your life.
and i wonder if this is the way it should be. if i shouldn’t fight to love you.
here is the vacuum of space where you used to be. and there was that vacuum of space where i used to stand next to you. where i would be you in that photo. but that person replaced me for you.
then again, i’m happy knowing that i can deal with that vacuum, even if you can’t.
DISCLAIMER: This isn’t about who you might think it is. Any of them, haha. Which makes me not so fucking pissed after all.