Sometimes on nights like this I wonder where you are. If you’re hurting someone else.
Sometimes I think about how sick you must have been to spin lie after lie and story after story. I realize how incomplete, and alone, and broken you must feel all of the time.
Sometimes I wish I wouldn’t have said all of those ugly things to you on our last phone call. …because that’s all you are…a sick individual.
Sometimes I think about how much I loved you. …how much I loved such a sick person. And it scares me. Can I only love the wounded? Am I only capable of truly loving and being loved by the emotionally barren.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to meet you in person. Would we laugh like we use to about the stupidest things? Would we cry about what you did?
I’d like to build a fort with you like we always talked about. A fort made of blankets under the starry sky. I’d like to imagine us wishing on every star until we fell asleep with you holding me like you always promised to.
Sometimes I worry about you. Sometimes I hate you.
…and sometimes…and I don’t mind taking a walk down memory lane…because I always find you there.