Liver eaten by birds

 Right now in this moment I just want to be cuddled on the couch by Dan. Have him hold me and fall asleep in his arms with his leg around me.

I still love him. What the actual fuck is wrong with me?

When I wake up I know I'll feel differently again. It's a constant yo-yo. This inane ebb and flow without any smell of sea of spray of salt to make it better. It's over one year later and I feel like a jaded alcoholic Hemingway character drawn in 2D who is doomed to keep rolling some stone up a mountain only to have it come tumbling down in an infinite futile loop. 

For a year I've tortured myself, my liver eaten by birds over and over again: why don't you love me? Why can't you love me?