Pathetic loneliness is all.
When the lights go out I get weak. It’s as if loneliness consumes me. And I’d take or do anything to get rid of the feeling. The ache in my chest, the urge to curl into a ball all by myself, the empty side of my bed.
When the lights go out, it’s as if all my power goes with them. I can’t fight it, can’t win. I need you here more than I’d like to admit. More than I’d ever admit. Because telling you what I want gives you the power to hand it over or hold it over my head and torment me with it. And simply handing stuff over isn’t your style. You’d rather make me work for it. You’d rather get something in return. Which you would of course. Me. As if that’s enough…
When the lights go out, my hands reach out for you, someone who will never be there nor ever was. But that’s okay. I’m used to the loneliness. I’m used to the sleepless nights of longing, the feeling of never having the someone you want.
I’m used to it.
Because when the lights go out I’m home. I’m where I belong, which seems to be everywhere you aren’t. Clearly because if it was meant to be, it would. And since it isn’t, it’s not. So go on and live your life and I will too. I’ll spend my nights in the dark, lonely, thinking of you and you’ll spend yours … where? I’d rather not know. Though I guarantee it won’t hurt as much as I’ve been hurting myself. So congratulations you’ve made the right choice. And have a good night.