My stomach does flips

I think of what could’ve been.

Why did I screw up?

and I’ve been thinking

and been thinking

and thinking.

And I think

that believing there is a God

is different from believing

in a God.

And I think that I might believe there is a God. But I’m not quite sure I can believe in him.

Dear Self,

I am a very Self-absorbed person.
Anyone who tells you differently is lying.

Love Always,
Self.

And it’s times like these
When I think to myself, “Self,
They aren’t all crazy.”

I hate how numb I get when I think about you

and that stupid fight we had.

I hate how I let my stomach contract

and how I stare off into somewhere not here

and how I bite my lip, as if it will turn back time

and how stupid I feel when I eventually start thinking about how you never actually cared

and how this cycle continues over and over again.

Lather rinse repeat times infinity.

I hate how I am wasting my time writing this about you.

The last time either one of us wrote anything for each other was when you were writing a poem  for me, when it was good.

I hate how I have to share this with the world, even though I know it’s crap, because I just need to get it off my chest because there is this

real

physical

pain

in my chest and I can’t think of anything to produce it but the shock of you.

The shock I felt yesterday that caused me to start lathering, rinsing, repeating.

Get out of my hair already. I need you gone if you don’t want to stick around.

I will force my words
Into some sort of poem
Because if I don’t…