/Wrists

Half a life.

You're camping right now, you text me this morning to tell me that you have signal, I was in bed crying myself to sleep. You've been gone a day and already I'm caving. I guess it's the anxious thoughts and paranoia that are making me cave. I wonder if he fell asleep with you, if you've even thought about me since you left. Since I left. I'm running out of room on my wrist.

Am I so emotionally fucked that I can't even go a day without you? I've gone days without you before, why is this so hard? Probably the fact that I can't see you, or be near you so I've no way of knowing what you're doing.

The painful realisation that all has gone wrong. Last time you went camping you couldn't remember anything and you were covered in pretty deep cuts from swimming in some rocky lake. I can't protect you. I can't even fucking hold you.

I'm not going to text you again this week, I guess you wanted a break from me, well here it is, lets see how fucked up I am on Thursday. Maybe this is what I need to kick start the moving on, or maybe this'll just make you hate me even more than you clearly already do.

I can't seem to believe that you ever cared for me.

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