A piece about Wellington. I wrote this after he randomly texted me (after we hadn’t seen or spoken to each other for months).
He texted me last night. I didn’t know what to do. I’m still hurt. I don’t know what to do. It hurts. It stings. An emptiness opened.
Are we meant to be on the same path? Fate, a pernicious guide. Where is it leading? Where are we going? What are we doing? Memories of each other left locked away. A secret neither of us cares to let go.
I loved him. I don’t know what I feel now. Nights spent drunk to a numb. Days spent high to a numb. Nights spent in other’s beds trying to forget. Days spent with other’s trying to forget.
Tears spent, smiles forged, I was hurt. I’m still hurt. He hurt me. The wounds now just healing, ripped open again by a single whim. The cuts. The sores. All open, oozing anxiety.