I’m at the part of the story that is much harder to write than it was to live because when I write it down I have to relive the experience through my words if I expect you to feel it too and when I was going through it I wasn’t rational at all under any definition of the words and to sit down fully conscious and try to describe exactly what that was like without having to invoke it is impossible and since it is still unresolved in the real world perhaps it has to stay unresolved on the page because the only way it can end if I write it is that I get to kill you because at some point I have to get some peace from it and I don’t so much regret that it happened I just sort of regret that the best way for me to deliberately and with great affectation transcribe the emotions is literally like cutting my hand open over a scar that was healing and watch it bleed profusely all over my clothes… it is feeling like a hard no and I can’t seem to stop myself from wanting to write about it more than I want to keep it going the shit is completely tragic and I haven’t stopped missing the idea of a “you” yet and I’m working on it, I swear.

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