-me, standing at the marble kitchen island stoned as fuck shoveling spoonfuls of reese’s puffs and almond milk into my mouth wondering how the fuck did it get to this

-me, thinking writing that down would be poetic while simultaneously knowing it most definitely is not

-me, thinking about you

-me, never thinking at all or at least trying to, because that’s the point right to not think about you by making sure there is no way to think about anything at all

-me, pouring my second bowl of reese’s puffs and almond milk, replacing the memory of you with the memory of how much i love cereal

-me, fast forward two hours later, super extra high, thinking of you? which you? who is you? not sure who i am thinking about, you? me? who?

-me, room spinning around me, waiting stock still for my dad to traipse up the steps and walk in, terrified, wishing i had your hand to hold

-me, realizing how not real everything is, realizing how this moment in particular is so not real it can not be real it is not happening, realizing you probably were not real either

-me, two days later, stoned as fuck out somewhere, tongue down someone’s throat and it doesn’t feel familiar and it feels like something you would hate, tongue exploring the mouth of someone you would hate just because i know you would hate them and i know you won’t read this and i know you won’t know that i ever did it or that i ever did it in spite of you but somehow it feels right, doing what felt right with you with somebody you would think is so completely wrong

-me, absolutely sure that i would never be the girl saying “do you think they’ll text me tomorrow”, saying “do you think they’ll text me tomorrow”

-me, stoned again, never having received a text but having long forgotten that i had ever even wanted to, dusting Naked eyeshadow onto my eyelids, thinking about how the creators of the Naked palette HAD to have been thinking about me (or one of the many duplicate versions of me) using their palette exactly at this very moment when they came up with the idea for the smokey eyeshadow palette, thinking about how someone HAD to have been thinking about me when this palette was created or bought or sold or, thinking about how i hope you were thinking about me

-me, thinking about you, and trying to deny it

-me, thinking about you, and not trying to deny it

-me, not thinking about you, but then thinking about you again

-me, sadly (surprisingly) sober not sure where this poem(?) started and whether it will ever end, a parallel to your existence in my life, a parallel that i will always want to destroy but that i would always miss if i somehow managed to do so