Less of a Jackass

When you’re close to someone else and then have to move away, the discomfort you feel is not just the contact you lose with their skin. It’s also the strings that hold your hearts together being stretched uncomfortably.

So pull me close to your chest. Hug me close and tight. Grasp my hands; I’m sorry they’re sweaty. Let me bury my head in your neck. Put your cheek on my forehead. Tell me everything is alright, even when it’s not. Lie through your teeth and say that it’s okay. I’m counting on you. I have you and your arms now, but I’m not sure if you’ll be here tomorrow. Where do you go?

I am not adorable so don’t tell me that I am. I’m hurt and lost and confused. I’m sorry that I can’t stop crying. Just hold me here. I can’t take our heartstrings being stretched like rubber bands because at this point, they’ll either snap in half or snap us so close that I won’t be able to untangle the mess of human limbs and black holes and unrequited love that is us.

I’m not sure if we’re blue or yellow. But I feel like green is a good compromise.

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I wrote that in January and it pisses me off that it's still relevant. I don't know. Maybe I'll feel like less of jackass in the morning.