He's all I ever think about.

 Every second of my life, I'm breathing in the hopes of seeing him again, finding ways to stay alive only to fall back into the arms of the pretty boy who pulled back all these layers and left me to rot.

He still calls, every day. And I still answer; to hear his voice, to hear my own, to do something except lay on the floor and watch as my insides continue on a harrowing path that only leads to oblivion.

 After all, death of the soul is the worst kind.

Nobody knows which parts of the people around them haven't learned to coexist with the rest of them. Or, in fact, with the rest of the human race.

 And I found him. A person I could sit around with and feel safe with, instead of constantly wanting to throw something at his face or break one of his many prized possessions or do something to get his attention.

It's all I've ever wanted.

 Maybe that's why we're stuck in this cycle – he calls, I answer, we hang up – because, finally, I'm getting the attention that I want, that I deserve.

He still comes by, too.

 Every night, he'd sit in front of the door, whispering all of those lovely little nothings.

"God, I messed up."

 "Why won't you just let me in?"

"I need you because you're the disease running through my veins and I don't want to get better."

 Other nights, he'd shout. Loud, crystal clear, his voice echoing through the apartment, serving as a constant reminder that he'd always be there. At least, that's what he said.

"I'm so fucking sorry," he grovelled once, his voice close to breaking. "Please, just let me in. I need you."

 And I need you.

But here I am, sitting in my room, staring at the door, unable to stand or breathe properly or exist, apparently. This boy wrecked me.

 And you can't be even slightly repaired by the person who caused all your fragile, perfect-fitting pieces to shatter and lose themselves. You're never really whole again, your smile is a little less genuine and you wake up, clutching your sheets, searching for the mass of warmth that isn't there anymore. And maybe, it never was.

 "I miss you." He sighed, defeated. "And I'm going to be here, every night, and I won't leave."

   He did, eventually. They all do.

 xxx

dedicated to shay because her existence makes me very, very happy. 

- jay.