april 18th, 2026
5:03 am est
part one : the unwritable girl – at times i wonder when i will stop hurting this way. when will i be able to go through life again without feeling this incredibly huge emptiness?
was it ella’s fault? do i loathe her for what i have become? would that make any of this better? who am i kidding. i am not even competent enough to point my fingers in the right direction. it’s utter, perpetual stupidity. staring at the pouring rain doesn’t magically remind her of me, no matter how unfeigned my feelings for her truly are. she doesn’t think of me when the sky is gloomy or when the rain is sputtering on her nissan rogue’s windshield. i am not a ghost who haunts her like she does me. i am just a stranger she once knew from playing a video game. a broken man.
and who even likes a broken man? it’s abject nonsense, what’s shown on television. how suffering is tailored and aestheticized according to one’s idea of it. no one really cares about a broken person. a soul so tethered and weak that it only garners pity. two cents of pity, thrown at me from gazing eyes that don’t dare pass a comment to my face. the centrifuge is truly too small to crawl out of. i may have the propensity to numb myself from reality, but little can i do to actually escape it. to escape the ghost of her. and i might just die that way. all alone.
part two – june 9th, 2026
isn’t it poetic that bleachers is playing on her birthday? the band i have listened to the most in the recent years, especially while trying hard to make myself forget her.
i’ve always wanted to see them live, and somehow that date, of all dates could be june 9th. feels like the universe refuses to let me move on from her. the universe holding me by the collar and throwing me back in the same cell i keep trying to escape from. a subtle reminder that there will never be anyone else.
a concert on june 9th. this would be my first concert in years. 7 years since i last attended one. celebrating her birthday, without her. just i.
part three – untitled
i imagine i must go. i must dance in total madness and revel in it, breathe in the fact that i will still feel alone amidst a crowd full of people. on the ninth of june, two thousand twenty-six.
but nothing will change. the sun will rise again. the kids will go to school, as they should. she will feel happy; she will feel sad. she will achieve big things in life. she will fall. she will get back up. she will love. she will live on.
and i must too.