don’t know who you are but you hurt real bad sometimes
some days i want to start clawing at my chest, want to open up that window with a room of feelings behind it. i wish you were a solid hurt, like a tumor or a kidney stone. so i could hold it in front of your eyes and say, ‘look, this is what you created inside my body and it fucking hurt like nothing i ever felt before.’ i tried to bury you behind a wall of words, tried to love someone else, even picked up some hobbies. collecting postcards, tie dying shirts, making bracelets and earrings. tried studying and working to the point of exhaustion so i don’t have any thoughts before sleep. just blank space starting from my eyelids to ceiling. but my mind keeps going back to that day on the bus, the last time i saw you. you, stopping before where i sat for a second and me, pretending you didn’t exit. probably should have smiled or said hello for common courtesy’s sake but couldn’t afford to fall for you all over again. it hurt, ignoring you like that, adoring you from a distance. funny thing is, i don’t even know you like that. ask me your favorite movie, favorite book or show and i’d probably hang my shoulders in a shrug. all i know is that you like faded green and wear no more than two layers of clothes. it’s been a long time since i last had any imaginary conversations with you. i’ve learned to distinguish between love and infatuation. now, i’m swallowed up in a field of regret. i should’ve asked about your family, about childhood, about the little things that make you you. if i wasn’t floating in clouds of longing, i’d say not knowing you was the smartest decision i ever made.