To whom it may concern, (ramble/vent)

I love you and I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for what I feel, and everything I say.

I met you, then we became close, then we fell apart, and I'm telling you because I never chose to learn from the lessons the universe has mercifully taught me.

But I don't want its mercy, I wish for it to swallow me whole. I yearn for a boy, a boy I cannot love, a boy who loves another. I yearn for you, darling, your beauty and grace and every perfect piece of your soul. Like a stone against stone, you've fractured my being, and chipped away at every flake and bump inside me.

I know you don't love me like that. I know you don't want to love me like that. I don't want you to love me like that. I know that you know that I know I am shattered beyond comfort.

 Every moment I spend around you, I suffocate. Nausea floods my stomach and my eyes glisten over with unshed sorrow, the knowing that I yearn for you, the guilt of pretending to see you platonically. The guilt of lying.

And so I yearn.