Love Letter To A Dead Man

I never thought I would feel like myself again.

Somehow it’s still a little uneasy to accept.

It’s been almost a year.

The fucked up thing is that I still think about you. How could I not. You are and will always be one of the most important figures in my life for a myriad of reasons, not all bad. My best friend. My lover. My one true. How could I not compare them to you. Toxicity so addicting how was I supposed to say no. That face. That stupid-fucking-perfect heart-breaking face. I’ve never been with anyone more beautiful, never devoted myself to anyone so deeply. Our obsession mutual. I miss fucking you. I miss you fucking me. You always fuck me like you love me. Our kiss is always the first time. I die thinking about our good-bye. I die knowing it’s the last time.

Strangers forever asking if it’s our first date, even when it was over. A love so pure. It scared me. Maybe it scared you. We’ve been through everything together. Name one thing we haven’t done. My partner in crime. We fucked everywhere. We loved everywhere. We were careless everywhere. I miss our family. I miss our life. The good times. Getting over you has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Tell me I’m a walking fucking cliche. I wish we could forgive and forget. I wish we could trust. I wish I could stop crying. I wish I could watch a Nicolas Cage movie without thinking of you. I wish I could press my lips against yours one last time. Hold me in your arms one last time. Can I run my fingers through your hair just one last time? My angel. My angie.

Tell me you love me.

That you need me.

I crave your unwavering affection.

It’s over. I feel normal again. I feel nothing again. I am empty, void of love. I’ve regained my confidence, my ability to eat. I’ve relearned to stand on my own. I am happy. I have control over my emotions. I do not have you. I wish I didn’t have to choose.

Goodbye for the last time.

See you in another life.

I Love You,

Your Olive Oyl