You have me feeling in a way that makes me scared—as I’m wont to be. You’ve had me running back and forth through my mind, as if I’m a lunatic. And you’ve had me this way for a while. I haven’t thought straight since the last time I saw you—but, even so, you keep me sane.

In the past few months, I haven’t felt right. I’m high—and I break. I’ve lost the words to describe it—last night, I shook, and shook, and shook because it felt like my heart was made of thunder. I laid there and I felt like lashing out, like tearing at the seams and bursting—because I’m scared, and it’s killing me. How do I describe it?

I stopped eating because I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I stopped sleeping because the dreams were too good to be true. I stopped thinking—started drinking—because I can’t avoid thinking about you. I crashed—in this thing I can only tell you in person, because no one else can know.

But, you told me to get better, take care of myself—so I did—because I’d go that far for you. I’d suck it up, and shut up, and would just bear it because there’s nothing else I can do. And, for you, I’d wait forever—because it’s worth it, somehow. Last night, I sobbed, because I’m hooked on hope—unattainable hope—that someday you’ll find me again.

For that, I think you’re beautiful.

And I’d tell you again and again—like I’m wont to do—that you’re too good to be true and it kills me when you’re sad. I know it’s difficult right now, but please, please, please—for the sake of god—don’t cry. Because I hate to see you cry. You can’t. You just can’t—because that’s my thing. You always save me—how do I save you?