I don't even know where to start. I do know that you, out of everyone I've ever met, you were my favorite memory. Hands down no doubt about that. I just miss everything about you. you were my everything and I can't believe I didn't see how bad you actually were for me. I kept thinking you helped me and you were my medicine and just my cure but really, you were the poison swimming in my drink.

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I distinctly remember you hate storms. The thunder and lighting scares you. Me? I love them, they calm me. Seems to also make sense why I loved you. It was was like I had my own personal storm. When it would rain, we would lay in your single person bed that we somehow fit in and hug each other. We would cuddle the entire time and talk about everything and nothing at the same time. We would plan out our futures, making sure to include each other. No one ever thought we would separate. We would plan out that we would run away together and start fresh away from all the things we hated. It seemed like a good plan at the time.

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The majority of our nights were spent in the dark. We didn't like spending time in the light. It distracted our true thoughts so instead, we went into your bathroom and opened your window so we could see the moon. Nothing but music playing the background and our thoughts opened. I remember that we would light candles there too. Just for fun and so we wouldn't be in complete darkness. I remember how we used to say our truest thoughts and we couldn't judge because no matter how much we tried, we were both messed up and related to each other. The remembrance of our nights is like a wound opening up once again.

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Sometimes, I want to cry. Not just a couple tears down my cheeks. Full on bawling, sobbing, hiccuping, can't breathe. I just want to feel something once in a while. Anything that could prove I'm alive. Sometime's I want to scream and shout and pull at my hair just encase you weren't real. Just to make sure that you weren't just some illusion. Hoping that I would wake up from this dream and you wouldn't be this cruel to me. That you weren't the monster that broke me into so many pieces, that you couldn't even put them back like a puzzle. I became the puzzle with missing pieces. Those type where you have all 24 pieces in the box but after a couple of days of the box just laying around, some pieces end up falling out and ending up either under the couch forgotten or in the trash, unworthy. Then we are down to 23 pieces. Then 20, 17. Until we decide to just throw it away altogether because how pretty would it actually be if there were multiple pieces missing?

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[These are just some words I keep bottled in. It just feels good to write it out.]