It is not something I expected wholeheartedly. It hurts like hell and it makes my thoughts go in all directions. You can say I am in a process of withdrawal. Love withdrawal, you might say, cheesy as it awfully sounds. I know time will heal it, but it still fucks me up big time. I can’t even think straight. It’s always bugging me, annoying me, pissing me off wherever I go, whenever it wants to attack. The only safe bet to avoid this is sleep but I can’t even sleep. My face is always on Facebook chat, hoping, waiting, knocking on wood something miraculous would happen. Sometimes something does happen, but more often than not there really is nothing there. Like a blank state of melancholy, chewing away at my insecurities and heartaches. I go home and eat and pretend nothing bad happened and sometimes I wank, hard as I might to avoid it, but still nothing eases this unlawfully accepted state. I tried for an alternative. Maybe I do need an alternative. But hard too as I might, it’s another long way to go, much harder in required effort and the ACTING! I dread the ACTING! Everything but the ACTING! For fuck’s sake, that’s the worst part of all.
Dark, darker, darkest, there is no difference. All hurts the same. Pain, everlasting, lingering. Pain, day and night. The hours are uncertain. Anything can happen now. Thinking about it hurts. Truth is unreliable. The romance is dead. My heart, it is lost. Unrecoverable, hateful, distrusting. Wishful, perhaps, but I have lost everything before and survived still. This one was special. So special. Embittered, the tip of my tongue tastes. The flavour of my life. Cuisine of kitchens unwanted. It burns, to the heart. I do not understand. I do not understand.