I’ve listed down a couple of things I’ve been up to since 11/11 (fucking Tower moment, fucking fuck). As well as a couple of things I’ve been nostalgic about. Normally I would be drunk-texting you these things, but we’re barely talking these days, and, well …

To clarify, this is basically notes I’ve started taking 6 days post 11/11. I was too intoxicated and drugged with sleeping pills to remember what happened the week of (a lot of crying in F.H,’s arms, for one, that’s one I’ll never forget because it was the only way I could get myself to sleep).

You have to remember that I’m posting this RAW. There is so much uncensored stuff + anger that I’m putting out there. For myself. Because, obviously … as true to the category this is filed under, these are things I can no longer tell you.

I present to you WEEK(ish) FOUR :

December 8, Day 22 (Technically Day 26) :
Toilet Cry Count : 1
Crying on F.H.’s Arms : 0
Meal Count : 1
Cigarette Count : 11
Alcohol Count : 0
Method used to sleep : F.H.’s arms

Things I was nostalgic about :
1.) When you *kick* me out of the Car, HAHAHAHA
2.) When you make up for it by blowing me kisses.
3.) When we walk in your hallway holding hands.

1.)Things I wanted to say to you :
1.) I’ve started to wake up at 5 in the morning again. I check my phone most days, wishing …
2.) I kind of miss feeling my phone vibrate on my chest / hand.

Questions (to the Universe / Myself / You, whatever applies) :
1.) I don’t think I can type this one out loud.

December 9, Day 23 (Technically Day 27) :
Toilet Cry Count : 0
Crying on F.H.’s Arms : 0
Meal Count : 1
Cigarette Count : 8
Alcohol Count : 0
Method used to sleep : F.H.’s arms

Things I was nostalgic about:
1.) When you position me on top of you when we snuggle. Oh god. I miss that so much. I miss laying on your chest.
2.) I miss when you wrap yourself around me.
3.) How you’d talk about me when I’m around.

Things I wanted to say to you :
1.) The fact that you say I get to have a few breaks with you before I travel, I thought to myself, “what a downgrade“.

Questions (to the Universe / Myself / You, whatever applies) :
1.) How did it feel when we walked separate paths tonight?

December 10, Day 24 (Technically Day 28) :
Toilet Cry Count : 2 (I was in bed, though)
Crying on F.H.’s Arms : 2 (I have mastered the art of silent crying)
Meal Count : 1
Cigarette Count : 9
Alcohol Count : 1 glass of RumCoke
Method used to sleep : F.H.’s arms

Things I was nostalgic about:
1.) The look on your face whenever you hand me *gifts*

Things I wanted to say to you:
1.) I can’t look at a bottled Starbucks Mocha without laughing. And I’m sure you don’t remember why I find that funny. Let me give you a few hints : You + Bottled Mocha + Your Tongue + Me.

Questions (to the Universe / Myself / You, whatever applies) :
1.) Are you as bothered as I am that we did not … see each other at all today?

December 11, Day 25 (Technically Day 29) :
Toilet Cry Count : 0
Crying on F.H.’s Arms : 0
Meal Count : 1
Cigarette Count : 5
Alcohol Count : 0
Method used to sleep : F.H.’s arms

Things I was nostalgic about:
1.) How red you looked when you gave me the set of memes before you traveled. If I remember correctly, you even started to sweat? Internally I was biting my lip. Because it was too cute.
2.) Receiving your first ever “DATE” invite.
3.) Receiving your NERVOUS GRAPH.

Things I wanted to say to you:
1.) Are you okay today? Wish I could give you a hug — and I would ask you why you’re stressed but I remember that it made you snap once because I constantly asked how you were doing once, lel.
2.) It has officially been a month since 11/11. I don’t know how I survived. The days just feel like a blur.

Questions (to the Universe / Myself / You, whatever applies) :
1.) Is it fine for me to protest that this barely seeing each other, barely talking is not a new normal I want to be accustomed to? I do not like it. I do not like it at all.

December 12, Day 26 (Technically Day 30) :
Toilet Cry Count : 0
Crying on F.H.’s Arms : 0
Meal Count : 1
Cigarette Count : 5
Alcohol Count : 0
Method used to sleep : F.H.’s arms

Things I was nostalgic about:
1.) When I run my fingers over your lips / chin and you gently bite them (even whilst driving).
2.) When I touch your face and you end up kissing my palm.

Things I wanted to say to you:
1.) Feels like we barely spoke at all this week.
2.) Kind of sad to not have been able to snuggle with you in that sweater.

Questions (to the Universe / Myself / You, whatever applies) :
1.) Would you let me know … no you can’t. Of course you can’t.

December 13, Day 27 (Technically Day 31) :
Toilet Cry Count : 0
Crying on F.H.’s Arms : 0
Meal Count : 2
Cigarette Count : 5
Alcohol Count : 0
Method used to sleep : F.H.’s arms

Things I was nostalgic about:
1.) When I threw a tantrum in the car one day over something NOT PETTY. Your hand was on my thigh but I purposely did not rest my hand on yours and you went, “TOUCH ME, BITCH!” 
2.) The many, many, many times we’d endlessly text … even when we’re not supposed to.
3.) That one time you were texting [redacted] to make me jealous but then I already figured out what you were doing, lel. You sent me the screenshot, regardless.

Things I wanted to say to you:
1.) Hope your head’s not so bad today.

Questions (to the Universe / Myself / You, whatever applies) :
1.) Had so much fun today — would you hate it if I sent you a few updates? Yes? Okay. I’ll shut up then.

December 14, Day 28 (Technically Day 32) :
Toilet Cry Count : 0
Crying on F.H.’s Arms : 0
Meal Count : 1
Cigarette Count : 5
Alcohol Count : 0
Method used to sleep : F.H.’s arms

Things I was nostalgic about:
1.) That time we stopped at a gasoline station and I just watch you from the passenger’s seat as you go about your business … with diluted pupils the entire time.
2.) When I called a certain place “my happy place“, and you said, “How dare you? Your happy place is here“,and if I remember it correctly, I said, “wherever you are is my happy place“.
3.) I miss when you try to guess the next thing I’m going to say. Like I said, with you, it’s always the little things.
4.) When there are things we talk about and don’t agree on. I honestly … like that we don’t agree on everything. I respect you enough that even when I don’t agree with you, I still … accept that they’re your own opinions. Does it suck that I think so highly of you? I’m normally not like this.

Things I wanted to say to you:
1.) I know it’s been weeks since we spoke on weekends, but let me tell you — I’m still not used to it, and I do not like it one bit. But, it’s not like there’s anything I could do about that, right? I’m not allowed. It’ll stress you out. I hope you know that my silence isn’t exactly my choice. I’m well aware that this is how you want things to be anyway, so … I’m pretty sure this doesn’t bother you as much as it bothers me.

Questions (to the Universe / Myself / You, whatever applies) :
1.) No urge to talk to me at all today though? Okay.

Therefore, I conclude : 

I was cleaning the apartment last night. Do you want to hear something silly? All those clothes I wore when I *spent time* with you? I have placed them aside. Unwashed. I refuse to, because, I… I’d explain it, but … [redacted].

Oh wow, four weeks. I still remember 11/11 so very clearly. I was drunk, I was in so much shock that I couldn’t even cry until 30 minutes after we hung up and I was heavily intoxicated I could choke whilst I bawled. I try to block that day from my head. I try to block the two times we discussed that day barely an hour each time only to feel smaller right after.

But you already know this. Regardless of how … what … I look at you, and …

Most days I don’t know what I should do around you. What am I not allowed to do, what am I allowed to do, where are the lines I can’t cross — it all stems from knowing that it was because of something I did, most likely — that made things the way they are now. Some days I want to talk to you, and ask. But honestly I feel like it’ll just make you hate me more. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells. There are many days I’d wish I’d done this or that. Tell myself I have the free will to do as I please around you or with you, but at what cost?

Oh, god.

I hope you don’t think that my silence is proof that I’ve stopped thinking about you. It’s honestly the complete opposite. You’re still on my mind always, and I … well. I’m honestly dreading, I …

Maybe I …

I don’t know.

For some reason I tell myself that there are things I can’t really do anymore because it was those things that drove you to leave, like — if I see you in what was always your spot, that somewhat became ours, and is now yours again, that I shouldn’t really walk over there even for a minute because, I feel like I’m no longer allowed. I feel like I’m no longer allowed to do a lot of things. Like ask what you’re up to when I’m wondering what you’re up to (which is a lot), or make conversation … I hope you know these aren’t things I CHOOSE TO DO. I do them because I feel like that’s what you’ve wanted all along anyway — space from me. Less from me. Because, things were probably … strangling you. And it was not my intention. I thought we both did what we did because we liked it. I liked it. I liked letting you know what I was doing all the time. I didn’t mind all those hours I spent with you, but then again … I can’t impose the same feelings on you, right?

I’m rambling.

I just want you to know — all this space that I know you know is between us, I do for you. Because I think … I think it’s what you want. I respect that. Why would I want to constantly push you away by my presence … that might have been suffocating. Maybe I’ve overdone staying silent. But how do I know when I’m smothering you?

So no, my silence is … it’s not … it’s …

I’m just being ten thousand times more careful because I no longer know where my lines are.

But god do I fucking miss you. This isn’t fucking easy. It’s been more than a month and I still …

I wanted to hug you yesterday.

I wish I could still write you letters during this period. Maybe I will. Just can’t send them out anymore, can I.

You want to know something I haven’t told you, though? Whenever something makes me happy, I wish I could tell you about it. Whenever something makes me sad or upset, I wish I could tell you about it. I don’t mind feeling these everyday, normal things on my own — but I wish I could share them with you. Does that mean anything to you at all?