Why is everyone in competition over who can care less?

Why is everyone afraid to say how they feel?

Why must we play the game?

What happens if we don't?

I have lost count how many times I have said goodbye to him.

We went three months without talking once, that's our best record yet.

I have sat with my girl friends, talking over wine about how much better off I am.

They are proud of me for ending it.

He was too young, too emotional, too selfish, too needy.

My mom even flew down to California to help me break up with him the first time.

I cried in the restaruant when I told her I didnt know what to do, and she held me like a child, right there during the dinner rush.

I was so grateful she did because for the first time in a long time I felt safe.

But then a month goes by. He finally stops calling.

Two months go by, nothing.

Three. My coach calls me and says come back to class, he misses me.

I am an actress you see.... So is he.

Our love began and ended on that stage.

We were crazy in love, playing insane characters and then taking it home to the bedroom.

We thrived getting lost in that identity, getting lost in cinema, and theatre and our dreams.

We would share a fifth of whiskey and fuck in his car before we went on stage, then give the performance of a life time. The sound of a standing ovation ringing in our ears.

Hows that for a high?

And when we shot a film cast as a pair of coked out bank robers who die togehter...

I mean come on.

Our identities were wrapped around each other our hearts ruled by ego.

So when I finally came back, and there he was, how could I not?

After all the work I have put in spiritually, emotionally, physically to get over him, suddenly I am picking up his calls.

My body gets anxiety, my mind says run run run, but last week he was in my bed, then again on Saturday, then again last night.

The rules have changed, we are not together.

We are just drawn to each other like magnets who cant let go of the past and all I feel is shame.

Shame that I can't give him what he wants, yet we are playing each other.

Shame that I can't rise above.

Shame that I can't tell any of my friends, or ask for advice becasue they will roll their eyes and admonish me.

Shame that I can't tell me mother because she knows he is toxic and she would lose all faith in my ability to make decisions.

But mostly, ashamed of myself for allowing this to ache all over again.

I know the feeling well,

You’re driving when your chest starts to pound

What if she finds out,

What if I tell her?

You know I won’t say anything,

But that doesn't make you feel any better,

Guilt hurts

When you’re still together.

So you call me,

I’m the last person you should talk to

But I’m the only one you can talk to

Cause I’m the only one who knows.

Yeah and I’ve been there,

I know how it goes,

It haunts you,

I don’t blame you

for needing me right now.

Even though you’re afraid to even say my name out loud.

I didnt expect it,

Monday night

I'm by myself

you ask if I’m alright.

I’ll be honest I’m happy you called

It doesn’t sit right

being the one left alone,

But I know better,

So I listen and try to make you feel better.

Karma's here to collect,

but atleast I can talk from the heart

about the nights I never slept,

When I was you

and she was him

and he was there

for the calls that you're giving to me,

like I did then.

I say I’m sorry,

I should have pulled back,

I knew you had someone,

I should've said that.

I didn’t walk into that bar

With any expectations

Just a strong drink with a good friend

That took us to darker places

And I guess I knew,

The moment you said she was gone

Out of town

And you didn’t know when she was coming home,

Yeah I knew then,

And if I was stronger I would have said no,

but I’m selfish

am I’m intense

and I let it go,

cause I love suspence,

and I miss sex,

and I miss my ex

and you’re all good

as good as it gets.

Maybe that’s just who I am,

I’ve been in your shoes

with everything to lose

So, I know how you feel now,

you need someone to harbor the secret.

It eats you up in side

well don’t worry

I don’t take it personal,

I know you don’t mean it.

I’m just sad because I let you fuck it up.

Will we be ok?

Please say that we won’t change, please say I won’t lose you too?

I’ve lost too many people from all the mistakes I’ve made,

the love I had,

the love I lost

and the one that got away.

Please call me later.

And say you don’t think less of me, or any other way.

Yeah you’ve seen me naked

but it was lovely and you’re here to stay.

You’re here to stay.

Please don’t walk away,

Please love her,

Please stay with her

Love her.

But be my friend like you were yesterday.

I take deep breaths and say

Im better off,

I laugh with my friends when they bring you up and say,

We all get a few fuck ups.

I read stories just to get lost in other peoples

Fiction.

I'm covering myself with bandaids because thats what i'm supposed to do

Now that i'm single.

I ask people how they are, just so they'll ask me how I am,

and then they'll bring you up,

So I dont have to.

I let go of you everyday,

and I let go of the people we shared,

and some times that hurts even more then losing you.

But everyone chooses sides eventually.

I watch through little windows until you close your blinds

and I close mine.

But there is so much noise I can still hear you coming and going.

There are sirens outside of my window, and I wish I could call you

and you would make my feel safe.

Your body fit mine perfectly,

until it didnt.

It was a past life,

I miss it so much,

and I dont miss it at all.

I try to remember all the last times with you, because we didn’t know it was the last time.

The last time we had sex, we didn’t know it was the last time we’d have sex.

The last time we kissed, we didn’t know it was the last time we would kiss.

The last time you made me breakfast and we slow danced in the kitchen, we didn’t know.

I try to remember the last time we drove in your car at night, windows down sharing a cigarette. We knew we shouldn’t smoke, but it felt so good.

“Come on it’s a special occasion” you said.

“How?”

“Because I’m with you.”

I blew smoke out the window and looked at you looking at me.

I would have told myself to capture every detail because that was the last time.

I try to remember the last time I made you laugh.

When was the last time you looked at me adoringly?

When was the last time you opened my car door for me, or the last time you pulled me close to you as we slept?

When was the last time I cried on your chest? When was the last time you cried in my arms?

When was the last time you were so mad at me, but you still told me you loved me?

When was the last time we looked out at the city from my roof?

When was the last time I told you I loved you?

When was the last time we laid in bed all morning?

What was the last TV show we watched or the last restaurant we went to? What did you get? I don’t remember.

What was the last fight we had? I don't remember.

When was the last time we talked about our future? I don’t remember.

It’s the little things that haunt me, I stare at my bed and I try to remember the last time you were in it. Your ghost moves through my kitchen and up the stairs, and every time I see a black Nissan Altima on the freeway I think it must be you.

When I walk out of my building I remember all the times you complained that there was no parking.

But you wont complain again because you won’t be coming over.

You won’t park on the hill and type in the code to my building that I finally gave you, then let yourself in with the key under the mat.

The last time you did, I didn’t know it was the last time you would. Neither did you.

I try to remember all the last times with you, because we didn’t know it was the last time.

The last time we had sex, we didn’t know it was the last time we’d have sex.

The last time we kissed, we didn’t know it was the last time we would kiss.

The last time you made me breakfast and we slow danced in the kitchen, we didn’t know.

I try to remember the last time we drove in your car at night, windows down sharing a cigarette. We knew we shouldn’t smoke, but it felt so good.

“Come on it’s a special occasion” you said.

“How?”

“Because I’m with you.”

I blew smoke out the window and looked at you looking at me.

I would have told myself to capture every detail because that was the last time.

I try to remember the last time I made you laugh.

When was the last time you looked at me adoringly?

When was the last time you opened my car door for me, or the last time you pulled me close to you as we slept?

When was the last time I cried on your chest? When was the last time you cried in my arms?

When was the last time you were so mad at me, but you still told me you loved me?

When was the last time we looked out at the city from my roof?

When was the last time I told you I loved you?

When was the last time we laid in bed all morning?

What was the last TV show we watched or the last restaurant we went to? What did you get? I don’t remember.

What was the last fight we had? I don't remember.

When was the last time we talked about our future? I don’t remember.

It’s the little things that haunt me, I stare at my bed and I try to remember the last time you were in it. Your ghost moves through my kitchen and up the stairs, and every time I see a black Nissan Altima on the freeway I think it must be you.

When I walk out of my building I remember all the times you complained that there was no parking.

But you wont complain again because you won’t be coming over.

You won’t park on the hill and type in the code to my building that I finally gave you, then let yourself in with the key under the mat.

The last time you did, I didn’t know it was the last time you would. Neither did you.

#Imissyou #whatdoesitfeelliketodie #thelasttime #iremember

You can break up with someone, but do you ever really break up? I guess sometimes it's possible.

But what about the ones that stick around? Their energy orbits around you. They'll be quiet for a second just humming in the background, and then they'll suddenly be a loud buzz in your ear reminding you, “hey, I’m still here. We’re not done.”

Social media only makes it 100x harder.

When he watches my Instagram story or "likes" one of my photos.

Which makes me to think; you don’t follow me anymore. You had to actively think about me, type in my name, and watch what my life looks like without you through tiny windows.

You all know the ones I'm talking about.

He'll text you on your birthday because it’s a wonderful opportunity to say it again;

“Hey, I'm still here.”

He’ll ask your friends about you, linger in the shadows, date someone else, but your friends will say, “he didn’t look at her the same way,” and then the buzz will get loud again and you won’t even know why you still feel something.

"We broke up, we’re done, aren’t we?"

Think about him.

How do you feel now?

"Indifferent.

I was a child."

Think about that.

The fan is spinning.

Clothes all over my bed,

like a girl who can't decide what to wear to a party where she knows no one.

A dying rose. A shot glass as the vase.

Flea market sunglasses.

A keyboard.

I thought I was intuitive.

I had myself all convinced over a gut feeling.

Maybe I gave myself too much credit.

Cause the truth is everything happens for a reason, but we have no fucking idea what that reason is.

Get inside my head.

Get inside my body.

I wan't to demand greatness.

But I only want to be alone when I choose to be.

Not when I am forced.

The picture you took of me at the beach, that first week in October.

My first week in this city. My first week with you.

I had never been so happy.

Now it's a year later, and I'm here but you're not.

The first week in Ocotober has you written all over it. An Anniversary for every moment you were there.

It makes it hard to go outside.

It makes it hard to be at all.

Fall feelings, I have too many of them.