and you falter.
you’re despicable now. you’re not you.
you’re not the girl i was mad for, you’re the one who makes me mad, with your addiction to drugs (and endlessly going on about them) and your sad, sad stories about how you’re wanted.

i know i’m losing you. losing you in me, i mean. i lost you months ago. but the you in me is leaving now too. i listen to songs and, though your face is what i see as the lyrics reel like a digital announcement board around my head, there are gaps in the pixels, and i find my head straining to make myself relate to the words. i can’t relate to the words anymore. i listen to songs and i think of you but the lyrics have nothing to do with you. i think that’s progress. or “progress”, in that i don’t really want to be moving on. it’s not my immediate desire anyway. but it’s like i’m loving a ghost. it’s like i’m pretending someone who has died is still alive.

but if i ever see you again (which is inevitable), we won’t know each other anymore.