I sometimes have “drunken” nights that are devoid of alcohol. I’d like to think this is somewhere between dreaming and waking, where you and I meet, and nothing else matters.
Perhaps it was wrong to be involved so early: while hurting, and hurling against (or towards) the inevitable. Perhaps it meant growing too comfortable with the idea of the “we” that losing the you and the me would happen eventually, and naturally.
I still do not know how to make sense of what I feel, or what to do, or when. But please know that I am doing my best. And there is nothing I want more than for this to work.
But I am struggling to stay afloat and the waves keep pushing you (me?) farther and further away.
I do not want to drown.