Reduced to something that resembles depression. It probably is depression, you’re just in denial about that too.
Sitting here, typing away your feelings, trying to drain your mind of the flood of thoughts that is drowning your perception of reality.
You’re angry. You’re sad. You’re mad. You’re hurt. You’re anxious. You’re in love. And it all fucking hurts. It all fucking hurts.
It’s spring break. And you should be at peace, relaxing before school starts up again. But you aren’t. Instead you’re trying to find peace, but it looks a lot like sadness. Losing yourself in fiction while listening to piano and eating junk food on the couch. Calling him, only to rediscover again and again with new-found heartache, that he keeps forwarding your calls. Writing him desperate emails that he probably doesn’t read. Texting him messages that he won’t reply to. Composing angry letters to him that you hope you don’t end up sending.
And it all feels like you are going a bit insane.
He just told you he doesn’t love you. And all you can think is that you love him still.
Isn’t that enough to drive you mad.