It has been a long four years.
Four fucking years, and in that time, I have done nothing with my life.
I model, sure.
I go out sometimes.
But I can't remember the last time I was happy.
The last time my stomach was full of butterflies and I felt high off of his touch.
The last time I actually loved somebody other than him.
Nobody really worries about me anymore, honestly.
All our friends were his friends first, and even though they stop by every now and then, I'm sure it's out of pity.
He still makes music, I'm sure.
He's probably out right now, doing a show or meeting fans or doing something; while I just try and focus on getting through the days.
Every now and then, I get stopped on the street, an old fan who'll smile and laugh and ask for a picture.
And I'll smile.
I'll hug them close and tell them to never lose sights of their hopes and dreams.
Because I did, and it cost me everything.
I fell in love with somebody I couldn't have, and when reality sunk in I lost it.
I spiraled down to the point where I could've woken up dead and nobody would think anything of it.
I mean, if I turned back to the drugs or stopped eating again or started maiming my flesh and died, I'd be a washed up rockstar who died.
If it was this year, I'd join the 27 club.
But, I'm still here, even if it's barely.
Maybe one day I'll be able to hear his name without tasting his lips on mine.
Stop feeling his hair running through my fingers.
Stop hearing his laugh in everything.
Stop turning around in the middle of the day, damn sure I saw his bright hair a few steps back, and it ends up being a balloon.
Stop seeing him in everything.
But I, Jayy Von Monroe, am utterly pathetic.
And I doubt I can stop my heart from being as empty as it is now.