i want to cry and puke
A whole summer occurs I do not think about you once. Not at all. But I do think about the waiting.
Everyday I think about the way my body was consumed by the tightness of anticipation. Every day I think about the loneliness of it all and mourn it.
I do not mourn the whole summer or even the whole winter before it but I do imagine isolation and waiting, my body before you and my body after you.
When I imagine the waiting I imagine myself but I do not think about you until I must.
Until your name is mentioned or I wake up sweating something that is not quite liquids. I loved myself in those moments before you entered and tricked myself into loving when you were inside. But it is the waiting I miss, the way I felt human. However, afterwards I hate the human I become.