31 Days

I’ve written out 50 different apologies

    that she will never see.

I’ve had thousands of conversations with her in my head that she’ll never hear. 

     I keep having seriously fucked dreams about her, but she isn’t actually in any of them. It’s weird. And I never dream when I smoke this much weed. 

     I’ve said goodbye to her way too many times already.

I’ve lived in a fantasy world in my head for way too long. 

     I’ve checked her Spotify to see if she’s unblocked me a million times.

I’ve stayed in bed, lost in my head, for years. 

     I’ve been controlled by my fears for 33 years. 

I’ve pushed her away twice, and I feel as if I might hate myself forever for behaving this way. 

Now she lives over 1,676 miles away. 

    We talked every day, in every kind of way, for 212 days in a row. 

Our birthday’s are 26 days apart. 

    We lived together for 31 days. 

And then, 

   on the 32nd day 

         I drove away. 

  We lived together for just 31 days. 

And then, 

          on the 32nd day, 

             I drove away . . .

    Today, 

I wish I could go back in time and stay. 

    It took me three days to drive home, 

          and I almost turned around every mile for 1,676 miles.

I am not better off alone.

CH 3/17/26