Yes, I’m still writing about breakups, so there’s that

No one kind of gives you a heads up that breakups might break you but if they don’t break you they might kill you but also if they don’t kill you they might kill something inside you that you refuse to wake up anywhere else except when you’re alone – actually sometimes even when you’re alone you’re still not touching that box, that chest, that lock, that war zone with a 46 foot pole, or your heart.
But sometimes you read about someone who dared to open the chest and look inside, what I mean is, someone who opened their chest and ripped through the aorta to find what was causing the deadened pulse beneath, and you see that what they found was questions, questions, questions
Questions about
And that’s something you don’t like to ask. It shouldn’t be your fault, right, because you did everything right, of course, right, you were perfect or close or you did anal or close LOL or you gave your lifeblood or close or babies or will to live or all of the above because you believed in love or whatever but then when
You open the chest after you see your ex with someone else even though it shouldn’t make you ask questions it does because what in the entire fuck didn’t you do and then you wonder
Whether they’ll be kinder to the replacement than they were to you because apparently they’re capable of it because you see them able to do it all of a sudden and they’re still the same person as are you so obviously the problem is that they couldn’t be kind to YOU because it’s YOU, right? It’s you or they’ve been body snatched but it’s probably you, you’ve always been a bit difficult to love and then before you start going down once again those avenues to the abyss of self hate you
Shut your chest and let the corpse rot a little bit longer.
Inside you, of course.

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