My poor father is so sick, and I've had my head shoved so far up my ass dealing with some stupid asshole's bullshit, whom I don't even know, that I forgot about the only asshole in my life worth giving a damn and another fucking chance.

I am not a drug-addict, I am a pleasure-seeker.

Just don't ever think that if you came back to me I'd just let you waltz in and sweep me off of my feet. You still hurt me and made me cry, when you shouldn't have and could've easily avoided it.

Crying all night because I'm not drunk anymore and all I want is to forget you exist. It's happening. But today I remembered. These are unfortunately some of the only memories I have of you. Although I don't mind much.

No one will ever understand our love because I don't think we even understand it. From what I've learned, that's what love is. Complicated, heartbreaking, soul shattering, it's not easy. That's for sure. It's in your gut. You feel it. This time, it was much stronger. Core-shaking, is what Cathy called it. It was like how every time I saw you, your soul grabbed mine by the spine, and it was as if we needed to be together. We needed to be one. We were one. At once. Before some God somewhere decided that we needed to be apart to find our way back to each other. Maybe so that we could both learn how to live and love ourselves first, then each other. And what we had was us prematurely trying to shove ourselves back together again.

The worst part is when I wake up from a dream about you, and I swear I can still feel you there with me. Smell you on my sheets, the sweat, the booze, the sex, and how even after it all, you still smelled so clean. I thought this was only supposed to get easier. I still wake up and see you there next to me. In my tiny bed, cramped. We're facing each other with only the early morning sun covering us, legs entwined. We are just looking, searching, longing? into each other's eyes, just staring into each other's souls. The sun was so bright that day, I couldn't remember if your eyes were green or blue. But they were neither. More gray than anything else if I remember. But I would like to remember.

The last time I had you, I couldn't stay in bed. Though I wanted to. I knew if I did, it would take me deeper. Now all I can do is run away as far as I can go, and hope that one day you remember what this is, and you end up at my door again.

 I want that you are always happy. I want that you are always safe. I want that you are always doing what you love. I want that you are always loving who you are meant to love, safe and warm. Somewhere with someone you can call home. I want that one day you have your beautiful red-headed, freckled children. I want that you get to see your 30th birthday, and your 40th, and 50th, 60th, and every single one thereafter. I want that one day you can see me for who and what I actually am. I want that one day we will see eye to eye. That we both won't be so broken and sad and hurting each other. I want that one day we can work together again, coexist again, and love again. Not the same way we did before, but better. Where each day with you is better than the last. I want that one day we won't need any drugs or alcohol, but only each other. Just us. Nobody else.

 I'm difficult right now, but I promise that I'm worth it.