Six-white-venus - All I Ever Wanted Was The World

if you ever see him, there is just one thing you would like to ask him:

how do i forgive?

because you've been trying, lord knows you have. it's been a year. he never loved you. it's as easy as that. why can't it be as easy as that?

you recently came across a letter you wrote him after he left, one where you're begging him to come back. you tore the paper copy into shreds a long time ago, but this one must have escaped your notice. you remember his response to the message. a thumbs-up emoji.

"whose name will i call, a thousand times over?" it said, "who will I call my love, my love, my love- exasperated, scandalised, laughing? who will I call?"

it's been a year and you know the answer to that question, more or less. no one. you will call no one. you will sit and stare at the paint peeling off your wall, that ugly, powdery blue that has started making your skin crawl. you will sit on the cold kitchen floor till your mom pulls you to your feet and brings you tea. you will call no one. you will make yourself forget.

except, it's not that easy.

he pops up in every mundane aspect of your life. the other day you found a keychain you bought him a month before his birthday, a month before he left you. you give it to someone else because why waste money? it's not like he lives in it.

(but he does, he does, he does.)

he is dating someone you used to know. you don't care. you want to throw up. you just want to ask: how do I forget?

a friend recently asked you, "do you think you had a savior complex, when it came to him?" you said you didn't, but maybe that's not the whole truth. maybe you did have some sort of twisted need to save him in every single way possible just so that he'll love you.

i would help you stitch yourself up. i swear i won't scream when you gut me like a fish. i will feed you soup and keep you warm. i won't sob when you knock my portion to the floor. you bleed. i do, too. no, you're right. i don't bleed as you do. I'll never understand. i am so sorry. i love you. do you love me?

after a week, you receive two texts:

lol kys ily <3

you are so happy you could sob.

he does none of this now, apparently. he smiles instead of smirking. he cradles things. he tends to wounds. he calls her baby. he says, "I love you so much." the whole thing, all spelled out. how crazy is that?

and you just want to ask: how do I stop caring?

he always held you between his teeth. there was nothing gentle about it. the bite marks on the back of your neck still hurt and you could swear it still bleeds. your mom says you're imagining it. you must be.

but here's the thing! you have people who hold you in their arms now. they are so gentle, so careful with you. you didn't cry, not once, under the clutch of his canines but now in their arms, all you do is cry. it's so strange. and you really are happy. it's so much better than what it used to be. you wake up and he's not the first thing you think of, not anymore. you dream that he apologises to you (you forgive him every single time). you go to therapy. you don't remember the last time you cried over him. you are loved, but not by him. you never were.

it doesn't matter, because you know what love feels like now. it is popcorn and nacho cheddar cheese seasoning and mutton curry. it tastes like tea and chips in an orange package and instant noodles you made with your best friend the day before she left for college. you know love now. you know happiness.

but in moments like these, you can't stop yourself from thinking that if you see him again, you would like to ask him one last thing:

how do you stop missing being held between one's teeth?

on anticipatory grief

victoria chang \\ louise glück averno: "persephone is wandering" \\ musubu hagi \\ @judas-redeemed \\ franz kafka letters to milena \\ musubu hagi

kofi

Infinite in Both Directions

@sketiana // cells undergoing mitosis // neutron stars colliding // 'saturn', sleeping at last // voyager golden records // diagram of an atom // diagram of the solar system // 'a toast to the alchemists', laura giplin // neural stem cells // ciliated ventral epithelium // 'constellations', the oh hellos // jwst deep field // 'singularity', marie howe // heart of the phantom galaxy // 'zephyrus', the oh hellos // apoferritin // aerial view of a forest // a graph me and my project co-chair made to model angle over time of our payload // molybdenum and sulfur atoms // unknown // pillars of creation

Louise Glück, from “Stars”, Poems: 1962–2020

Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous