October 10, 2019 10:53 p.m. I looked at him and my heart hurt. I missed the old him. I missed that version of me too. All the fucked-upness, the tears, the confusion, the understanding. That was probably the closest we both would ever come to love. I saw who he was now and I didn’t even recognize him. He feels cold. He feels distant. He feels like a person I used to know. I missed kissing his face. I missed staring into his eyes. I saw his face from two years ago and my heart sank. My eyes sank, my thoughts sank into the place it hasn’t in months, but that same place that always seemed to slip its way backup into my dreams, my words, my mind. I had to be pretty stupid to allow myself to feel however I was feeling and say it out loud. It must of been pretty stupid...that I allowed myself to repeat things I’ve said for the last two years. It’s wasn’t about him. It was about me and how heartache and history offered me comfort. Oh how I romanticize time. Memory is a funny thing... I missed all the shallow shit from my last nigga. All things I will get from the next one and the one after that and the one after that. It felt hard this week. I found myself chasing memories, feelings, and all those other bullshit thoughts I use to think about him, about us, about me. I was missing four men that could and would never love me the way I needed and I questioned whether I could either.