Honey, I'm tired.

Honey. I'm tired.

I shouldn't be calling you that anymore, but fuck that, you don't even know this blog.

I'm tired.

I haven't seen you in four weeks.

I'm feeling godawful.

I just want to hear your voice, see you again, feel your hair under my fingers and share a drink with you
but why is it that calling and seeing each other isn't okay? But texting is?

Why do you say we'd see this week about seeing each other and you're not even?

Why is it that this three day birthday party you're doing goes before I do when you told me you'd see me after your legal stuff was sorted?

Is it sorted after all?

Are you just lying?

Why didn't you tell me first that you had this party, that your best friend and mom would be coming in September too?

Why?

Am I even anything to you anymore? A priority?

Those emojis, are they just a way to soften it?

Am I friendzoned?

Do you even truly want to see me at all?

Why?

Am I ever going to be able to give you this magnet I bought you when I was at my mom's place?
This shit is sitting in my room and has been for three weeks, and I want to cry every time I look at it. It waits for you, endlessly. I don't even know if you want it.

Have you read the Little Prince? Or tossed that book I dedicated to you with my own handwriting?
Please.

I know your period made it impossible to drive me back home. I got it.
Then your legal stuff. I was already aching to see you but... alright.
But then... all of that. And I find myself wondering. Am I even still a thing to you?

Where did all of this go?

Where did that intimacy we shared in that bar bathroom go?

The kisses? The fact you never said you didn't want me back?

Why does it feel so scummy to me and then right after I'm back to blaming myself because surely it's my own fault that everything is like this?

Because yes. I think... maybe I'm truly the one at fault.

After all, I've been asking you to see you at least once a week. Like, not at every text. But with every week that passed...

I remember when I tried calling you and ended up on your voicemail. Were you here? You did not reject the call. Did it simply ring?

You're right. I'm one who cannot let go. I make it hard. I'm not enjoying the moment.
I know I'm awful. I'm so sorry.

What is so wrong with me that I'm not even worth...

worth all of this?

Not even the cleanest of clean breaks, if you truly don't want anything to do with me anymore?

If I'm not just a mess because every week spent without you is harder?

And because I find my eyes wandering to somebody else too who may not even ever like me back in this way?

For real.

I'm tired and everything is wrong with me.

I love you. I don't know if you still do.