I was walking home last night and every corner I passed had a shadow that looked like you.

I found this bottle of alcohol at the back of the cupboard before we moved in, and now that you're gone.. I can only find comfort in what we once had and the bottle itself because wine isn't strong enough to wash the taste of you out of my mouth.

It was Sunday and it seemed as if the sky was emptying itself out onto the streets. And I, myself, feel so empty. Sundays.. were by far the most depressing days on the calendar. Sunday was meant for resting. But how do you rest your thoughts when you can't even rest your body?

I feel useless. Unworthy. Not enough.

I disgust myself.

And I don't ing know why.

I had a dream once that I found you next to me in bed. We were both , our hair damp and our heartbeats calm.

I woke up, crying.

It was just a dream. A ing dream!

Miserable.

That's how you should describe me.

You live in the silences between my thoughts. But my thoughts are not your thoughts.

What should I do?

No matter what I do, no matter I think nor I say, it was you.

From the very start...

ing hell it was always you!

It is hard to live in a life like this. It haunts me everytime. It kills me and keeps on burying me on my own grave, that only you, can pull me out and put me back into places.

I kno