We've lost the plot and we don't know how to recover it. We're hummingbirds with no desire to move. We're the living who justify the dead. We're the lonely and the loveless. Who the fuck am I kidding? There is no we. There is only I. I am loveless, and lonely.
That's because I'm without you. You're so sure of yourself, so beautiful in your tragedy. You're like an Impressionist painting; beautiful, but blurred around the edges. I want you more than anything. This love is… It's much like suffocating.
Put your hands around my throat. Please.
Just kill me.