I'm writing again. And this time around is no different than last time. I somehow feel alone in a world that has almost 7 billion people. How is that?
I feel like the only thing I ever did was jar up my time and give it to her, but she says otherwise. The only person I communicated with, yet she says she misses having real conversations with me.
I don't talk to anyone else, I don't spend my time with anyone else, yet I still have the audacity to say that everything's going swell in my life.
I truly was swimming in her ocean, and I forgot how horrific the taste of salt water filling my lungs was. In fact, I couldn't even tell what part of my drowning was her saltwater tears or the ocean of her eyes suffocating me as I looked into them.
A part of me is glad to be on the beach again. So secure. As the tiny rocks sink between my toes with a warmth only describable as pleasant, I can't help but think of how good the ocean is from the sideline. Maybe I'll stay here a while.
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