Break my heart again.

Sometimes, as I'm just getting on with life, as I'm plodding along, taking care of my kids, stuck into the nitty gritty of the neverending everyday stuff, I catch my breath.

I catch my breath and I realise that I'm missing you. And it hurts.

It's odd though. I don't really know what I'm missing. I mean, we're not the same people, we've both changed. I'm missing a dream, something that never was, something that probably never will be, something that I shouldn't be missing, since I've never really met it.

Something that might disappoint me was I to actually meet it.

Why the longing. 

Why? 

So not helpful. So painful.

I wish I could erase these last 7 months.

I really do.

And anyway, what's the point?

Je ne sais tellement plus quoi penser que je ne pense plus.

Je ne sais plus.

Est-ce que ça a un sens tout ça, réellement?

Je ne sais vraiment plus.

letter to myself

Oh putain, oh putain, oh putain!!!

Breathe.

Calm.

No need to over-react. No need to change course.

Do not allow hope.

Do not.

For fuck's sake, don't you fucking dare start to let hope open the fucking door. It's closed. Shut. It cannot be. We are over.

You've dealt with it, no let it be.

Oh putain.