.
Time slowly drifts forward, carrying everyone along its slow currents. The lonely become the coupled once again, leaders rise and fall, and people get inexorably older if not better.
I was so turned around by your coupling. It isn't right. I am not into you, I am into some superior version of you, that is stronger and less hidden. I want you to be awkward and perfect and I want to fuck your brains out. This you doesn't exist, and she may never. So why am I so upset? I didn't lose you, I didn't chase you, and I don't even want the real you. Maybe you're just an excuse, something for my sorrow to wrap around. That is probably it.
I'm running again. Tired, shifting in my sleep, rising too early due to anxiousness. It seems even my subconscious loathes the idea of you: of you I don't even dream. It is, perhaps, the waking me that dwells too much on us. Perhaps my dreams are right; if only I could convince my mind to forget you like my dreams have.
I might not dream of you anymore, but my heart still turns in knots for you.
I am so very alone.
.