Every Monday morning, I pray you have a good week
Every evening, I pray you fall in to a sound sleep 

Every Friday, I pray your weekend will be safe

Every Sunday, I pray you are in a peaceful place

And sometimes, when I’m feeling selfish, I pray you will be mine again 

An atheist caught in a cycle of prayer. 

A wise friend once told me, patience is a virtue.

You were right.

So I’ll wait for you.

Seconds, minutes, hours. Days, months, weeks and years.

I’ll wait.

Don’t worry, my love, I am not actively awaiting your return.

You would not want that, and I am tired of being sad.

Just know, I’ll always be yours.

I am sprung on you, my love, and I do need you back.

Just not today.

And probably not tomorrow.

But I’ll be waiting, sweetness.

Yours truly,




I hate you, and I hate being alive. I hate that you make me hate being alive. I hate everything about you. I hate how you make me feel. I hate that you are gone. I hate your smile. I hate your friends. I hate that I can not make you happy anymore. I hate your front of disinterest. I hate your reserved demeanor. I hate that I am not over you. I hate your happiness. I hate that I doubt that you are really happy but will never ask. I hate that it has been a month without speaking. I hate being weak. I hate you for making me feel weak. FUCK YOU. 



How did we get lost?

I miss you.

The love we made, laughs we had, thoughts we shared, and highs we experimented with.

I miss it all.

I need you.

Your kind nature, ritualistic behavior, reserved conscious, and patient demeanor.

I need it all.

“Hello 911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hi, I’d like to file a missing persons report.”