I think I need to move.

I love living alone sometimes.  But when you live in 600 square feet and go through the same spaces alone after being part of an us, there are ghosts everywhere. And the space is already cramped without having to feel the absence of a warm body so harshly. 

You are still everywhere. And when you were here I didn't think I even wanted you. That's the honest, naked truth. It's hard to sit with. I don't know if I ever loved you or now that you're gone, I just obsess over what isn't there.  It seems cruel that while I never particularly liked your hugs or spooning or being physically close, now it is all I crave.  I used to want to get off the phone and have silence when you texted, and now that my phone is silent it is squeezing out the pulp from this mascerared heart. 

The way you use me for sex cuts me deeply. Because I feel a closeness that quite literally does not exist.  I am castoff and discarded, I am gathering dust beneath your bed.  It is cold here.  And I wonder when I will want someone who isn't you.  Because every day there is you everywhere, and it's hard to imagine life without you.  This is the cruelest existence, to want to be seen and heard and adored by someone who probably wouldn't care if you were alive or dead.  I feel dirty and ashamed, I am a kid old all over again and wondering what I did wrong, punishing myself daily for crimes unknown. 

I am so tired.  I just want to love you and be loved by you.