I’ll probably never admit to you:
that I slept on your side of the bed so I wouldn’t feel so alone.
I made sure to use your pillow because it smelled like waking up next to you.
Any time Orion even mentioned you I fell apart.
I wanted to throw out that elephant toy because it reminded me of what happened just minutes afterwards.
I had the hardest time deciding to wash our sheets because of the stains that reminded me of a time where I felt better.
I miss our petty arguments over things that never mattered.
I was scared to walk back into our room after it happened.
Even when I came back to grab things Orion and I needed, I couldn’t walk by our bed without crying.
I miss watching you play video games, even though I was bothered that it took attention away from me.
It hurt me more that Orion saw it, than what actually happened.
I’m still nervous to be around you.
I never expected you to miss me,
or want to come home,
and especially not to tell me you love me.
It took me a minute to walk to the car after you refused to hug me. I literally couldn’t move.
I’ve never felt so defeated.
And even seconds afterwards, I was thinking of how much I love you.
Even when I was getting x-rays, I was thinking of how I wanted you there.
When I was walking through Target like I’d never been there before because of this damn concussion, I was thinking of how if you were there I wouldn’t feel so lost.
Even though earlier that day you’d hurt me more than you ever had in my eight years of knowing you.
Even though you killed a part of me that morning, I still wanted you.
Even though you put marks on me,
I’d still die for you.
I don’t even want to be flawless anymore. I just want to be perfectly flawed.