Ghosts Aren't Just for the Dead

I would be lying if I said I didn't know the exact time it was since the last time we actually, truly, spoke - spoke in a way that our hearts seemed to be intertwined, vessels connected and feeding into one another. 

Two and a half weeks may as well be two days, two hours, two minutes, two seconds... two split seconds.

The conversations we have now feel empty, a tree that was so full of life now hollowed out and nothing but a facade of what it used to be. 

How was your day?

Good. You?

Good. My throat hurts from singing so much. 

Don't overwork it. 

Yeah.

Well, I'll see you.

See you.

"I love you."

My fingers want to tap across the screen and to fervently send the message I know shouldn't be sent, my brain yelling at the rest of my body for not acting as my heart continues to bleed. I know you won't respond if I so much type out a single letter from that sentence. 

But there was a time when you did Jessica. 

Tell me, are there no more chances you can give me? 

Is being unable to love myself such a crime when I've been giving you every piece of my being and more?

How was that not enough? 

I put my phone down, deleting our conversation and your number along with it for the millionth time during these two weeks, despite having every single digit memorized. I'm trying so hard to convince myself that if I give myself all the affection I've given you that you didn't want, then perhaps... perhaps you'll stop haunting me. 

I'm weak in every sense of the word. During every breakdown you've been there for me... until it all became too much. 

I gaze out the window. Dark thoughts begin to engulf me, but I stubbornly swat away at the voices that seem to be mocking me into a deep sense of worthlessness. I know you said you want me to love myself not for you, but for myself. But tell me, how can your departure not be enough of a reason for me to try to love myself in this sense? Perhaps if I love myself enough, there will be no more space for you in my heart. I want to believe that.

Sica-yah...

When will I stop thinking of you?

When will you stop being a part of me?

When will I cease to think of you?

I can't even try to move on without you on my mind, without your shadow looming in the distance. 

Ghosts are for the dead aren't they?

So why do I keep seeing you everywhere I go?

You ended everything, so at the very least please end this nightmare. 

Please make me forget. 

Please give me my heart back.