starfighter beneath the sea of knowing

saw a therapist today. it was a whole lot of hokey bullshit i already knew. the water within the AC so audible, the waiting room so cramped, i felt like i was in a fishbowl.

i guess maybe it made some things better on a minuscule level, but mostly it served to make things worse. i latch on to anything that fuels my idiotic hope, and fuck…

she was talking about how uncertain life is, she was saying, “maybe in five years you’ll be back with her again, who knows,” and god fucking damnit.

of course that’s what stuck with me.

i’m such a piece of shit. saw pictures of you today. you’re the most fucking perfect, ethereal thing. i’m so sorry.

i swear i’ll stop writing soon.

but i guess i just can’t stop loving.

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