Or Something Like It.
i guess.
or something like it.
I needed to fill the spot you left when you left so I guess you can say that I moved on. My bed was empty and my skin was cold and although I'm lacking any sort of emotional relationship with the body next to me, it feels nice. Sometimes I stop and I think, what the hell am I doing? This doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel right, but it feels nice, and I guess that's almost there, right?
He said I looked healthy as I pushed my food around on my plate. I wanted to say, makeup does wonders, but instead I smiled shyly in a way that said, thank you for acknowledging. Thanks for seeing the effort I put in to looking okay. He smiled back and we pretended like the moment didn't happen, and I looked at my phone to check the time to make sure that this obligatory dinner visit was almost over. I needed to toss and turn in a bed that would never be comfortable and call that "sleep".
I guess you can say that I'm keeping busy. I'm wandering fields and I'm doing a lot of surfing the internet. I'm exploring concepts and ideas I had never explored before. I'm growing, I think. I'm eating when I can and I'm smiling and laughing at all the right jokes and I'm tapping my foot to keep the beat of life as everything goes on around me. Does that make sense? If you're me, it does. If you're you, well, it probably doesn't. I've learned that what other people think shouldn't matter. There's far more to life than the thoughts of humans.
I heard you got a new girlfriend, or something like it. That's nice. I'm seeing someone myself, I guess. We watch cartoons and he cuddles with me, and then he leaves and does god knows what but I really don't care. It's another person sharing their time with me and entertaining my very superficial desires.
I know that you're gone, now, and for how long, I don't know. All I know is that you lied. He probably lies to me, too. But it's okay. I don't love him. I don't love you either, though, so I guess this really doesn't matter at all, does it? None of it matters. And that's alright, I suppose.
I dyed my hair auburn. I know you told me to do that a while back but I just recently did it. I hope that you look at pictures of me and miss me. I hope you see me driving by your house or your school and you wish you were in the car next to me. I'll fill your place with another body. That sounds horrific, but it's happening. Everyone is a filler to someone else. You are replaceable. Don't ever think that you're not.
You don't even care. I know you don't. You can't possibly care, you have a new life to tend to. You don't even know if I'm alive or dead and oh well, I guess that shouldn't matter to me. I've moved on. Or something like it.
Yeah.
I needed to fill the spot you left when you left so I guess you can say that I moved on. My bed was empty and my skin was cold and although I'm lacking any sort of emotional relationship with the body next to me, it feels nice. Sometimes I stop and I think, what the hell am I doing? This doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel right, but it feels nice, and I guess that's almost there, right?
He said I looked healthy as I pushed my food around on my plate. I wanted to say, makeup does wonders, but instead I smiled shyly in a way that said, thank you for acknowledging. Thanks for seeing the effort I put in to looking okay. He smiled back and we pretended like the moment didn't happen, and I looked at my phone to check the time to make sure that this obligatory dinner visit was almost over. I needed to toss and turn in a bed that would never be comfortable and call that "sleep".
I guess you can say that I'm keeping busy. I'm wandering fields and I'm doing a lot of surfing the internet. I'm exploring concepts and ideas I had never explored before. I'm growing, I think. I'm eating when I can and I'm smiling and laughing at all the right jokes and I'm tapping my foot to keep the beat of life as everything goes on around me. Does that make sense? If you're me, it does. If you're you, well, it probably doesn't. I've learned that what other people think shouldn't matter. There's far more to life than the thoughts of humans.
I heard you got a new girlfriend, or something like it. That's nice. I'm seeing someone myself, I guess. We watch cartoons and he cuddles with me, and then he leaves and does god knows what but I really don't care. It's another person sharing their time with me and entertaining my very superficial desires.
I know that you're gone, now, and for how long, I don't know. All I know is that you lied. He probably lies to me, too. But it's okay. I don't love him. I don't love you either, though, so I guess this really doesn't matter at all, does it? None of it matters. And that's alright, I suppose.
I dyed my hair auburn. I know you told me to do that a while back but I just recently did it. I hope that you look at pictures of me and miss me. I hope you see me driving by your house or your school and you wish you were in the car next to me. I'll fill your place with another body. That sounds horrific, but it's happening. Everyone is a filler to someone else. You are replaceable. Don't ever think that you're not.
You don't even care. I know you don't. You can't possibly care, you have a new life to tend to. You don't even know if I'm alive or dead and oh well, I guess that shouldn't matter to me. I've moved on. Or something like it.
Yeah.