I’m not in the mood for this tonight.

For the wave of nausea that the threat of your face elicits, that dull and achy reminder of why I couldn’t eat for weeks on end because I was too busy trying to tread water so I wouldn’t drown in you. For the sickening helplessness I feel when I realize I’m still looking for clues, trying to piece together what happeneds and what ifs into some sort of coherent storytelling blanket to wrap up in and shield me from the cold and empty truth. Why do I still care? I usually don’t but somehow tonight the air against my skin feels like a funny combination of nostalgia for a bittersweet childhood and hope for a future I’m not sure I believe in. Sometimes you felt like that hope though and I let myself believe in you, I closed my eyes and jumped wholeheartedly into the promises you were meant to represent.

It didn’t quite work out though, did it, and now I’m not in the mood to feel much of anything at all.