I’m not okay

I have to see you tomorrow. For the first time since it happened.

I didn’t think it would fuck me up this badly. I didn’t think I’d care. I didn’t think it was a big deal.

But the contemplation of the lighter in my hand says otherwise. The pull of this bottle of vodka speaks differently.

I’m not okay.

I thought I would be, but I’m not.

I didn’t think it would get to me like this.

Turns out I care more than I’d like to admit.

Fuck you for hurting me. Fuck you for stripping me of what little faith in humanity I had.

I hate you.

No I don’t.

I’m sorry.

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