i’m sitting on a ledge by the river. it’s almost midnight, and it’s a monday and i’ve been saving this notebook to write something perfectly profound in it. but i bought it 4 months ago and it’s the end of the semester, and i’ve had a cigarette and a joint and i’m imperfect and life is pointless. what better time to write than now?

two of my best friends broke up today. i can’t say i didn’t see it coming. none of the couples i want to work out ever do. i suppose that paints a full portrait of my own hopelessness for you. not that you needed one.

it’s still cold. i hoped it wouldn’t be when april hit. i seem to live in a 12-month winter now; frozen in the midst of it and thawing when i’m finally free, never separate from her grasp. she shoves me along, slips out from under me, she stumbles at my feet. she’ll never change and neither will i.

how’s it possible that i still miss you? how’s it possible that you’re still all i wanna talk about? how’d i manage to convince my brain to become so dependent on the thought of you that i can’t survive a day without a dose, without a conversation we once had ringing in my ears, your broken voice, the tears you never cried till you met me? how have you managed to escape the sludge so painlessly, to dredge your limbs through the uncrossable river of grief, to keep your head above the tide as it slams against your chest every time i pass you in the halls? it seems impossible, now, to rid myself of this mess, to undrown myself from the sea. my skin’s all pruned, but the water’s warm. i doubt i’ll ever leave.

the river isn’t fun today. it’s monday and my friends are breaking up, and i’m still thinking about you and there’s dirty snow rooted to the ground. winter is forever. i miss you. it won’t go away.

life’s thrilling. you spend days and years collecting reasons to hate yourself, putting them on the walls and bookshelves around your skull till you’ve filled every corner with every regret you’ve ever had. that’s the human experience, i guess. you do a thing, you wish you never did. you hate yourself, and then you die.