I'm going to spit out my feelings today. 

We've known each other for a year and a half today. 18 months. 18 long, long months. I have such mixed emotions about how this time has passed, there are bits and pieces I want to remember and tell my kids about, but there are times that I want to erase. I'm typing this and thinking about how pathetic this post is going to be, but I'm still going to post it because I want to get it all out tonight. 

I still can't believe how close we were last summer, and now? It's all so different, so very weird. Sure, we talk on and off, but it's not the same. What haunts me is, will it ever be? It keeps bothering me and prevents me from sleeping at night, i just stare into nothingness. It's almost like I'm the epitome of inadequacy. Will I ever be good enough for you? Iv'e spent too much time away from you that I've almost forgotten what I was fighting for. I'm reminded time and again, but I still forget. I'm so unsure of whether you're still in this with me, or not. Screw it, I'm not even sure if you were in it to begin with. Without knowing where I finished, I'm unsure of where to start from. 

I've always loved you. Haven't you known? How could you have not known? Didn't you feel it? I don't know how you missed it. You never made me happy, no. Talking to you never made me happy. But not talking to you made my insides ache. I was as if I didn't only want you, I needed you. I tried to cut off all contact with you, we didn't speak for almost 3 months, but we eventually started talking again. I guess it has something to do with destiny. I couldn't trade you for the mere element of happiness, I would be glad to be in misery and with you than being happy with someone else. It might sound like a cliche, but you and I, we both know it's true. 

Despite all my efforts, I still feel I'll never be good enough for you. The inadequacy is eating into my soul, bite by bite. Because, you're perfect. In every bloody sense of the word. So maybe, I'll never be fixed. Maybe I'll always need and love you. Maybe I'll always live in silence for the fear of saying something wrong. Maybe, the only lover I'll have will be the faint sounds of yesterday. Maybe, breathing will always be like punching a bag full of shards of glass. Maybe, I'm not made to be a lover, just a writer. Maybe, I'll always hope for you to return and ache whilst you do. Maybe, the only the ting I'll be sure of is that I can't live without you. Maybe, my eyes will always bleed the taste of your lips. Maybe, I'll always have shattered windshields for eyes...