I did some terrible things to forget you. I told myself so many times that this is the way is supposed to be, but love does not do that to people. It doesn’t tear them apart, it does not break them into thousands of pieces, just to see how they look on the floor. Love heals, but look at these fucking wounds of mine! I am enterely made of unhealed wounds and this pretty weird skin does not cover them up. You were the medicine. You were the muse. The voice inside my head that finally helped me sleep at night. Now I’m sleepless again. And you know what? I did see in you more than you will ever know. Maybe more than you deserved. I wanted you for what you are, not for what you thought you could be. We are alone again. In different places, with different people, but still alone. Always.