perspective

This is how I know it really doesn't matter. This little faux loss. This theatre. It's small in the midst of life, the things truly on my mind: death, destruction, God, money, body, loss, madness...other things I won't name.

I'm detached. I can forget that he even exists. I spent hours without even thinking of him. I am self-contained. I have been hurt too many times to even love someone. It's not real. I thought I cared. I probably don't. I can't anyway. Because I only love the wrong people. If it's even love. How the fuck would I even know at this point. I don't even trust what I feel.

I want to cry and curl up somewhere in a bed in a fetal position and not come out. I want the world to go away and leave me here, forget me, please, everyone that has every known me, forget. Let me go.