waiting for your text feels like being strangled — just enough room to breathe but not enough to live. the silence burns, rejection leaves its fingerprints on my neck. I can’t stop wondering what you’re thinking, what you’re doing. probably nothing. probably not about me. closeness hurts, but I’d take the hurt. aloneness is a fist in my stomach. I’m too much. too loud. too messy. too lost. I want the world to take me in, but it spits me out. I wish I could be happy in silence, but my heart is too noisy. it’s screaming. it’s pounding. I’ll try to sleep, but my heart is still louder than the dark.
