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.