Missing someone

I’ve tried to be reasonable about this.

I’ve tried to be calm, detached, grown-up, whatever version of “healthy” people keep preaching at me like it’s a prayer.

It’s not working.

The truth is ugly, and I’m done pretending otherwise:

I want you back so badly it gnaws at me like something feral trapped in my ribs.

People say obsession is dangerous.

They’re right.

Because when it comes to you, my mind stops caring about lines, boundaries, consequences, any of it.

I would rip pieces out of my own life without hesitation if it meant I could rewind things to when you still chose me.

There are nights when I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling this… pressure.

A hunger.

Not for blood, not for chaos, just for you.

For the chance to hear your voice without that distance in it.

For the possibility that I could matter to you again.

And the worst part?

I would ruin anyone for that chance.

Gladly.

I’d tear down every wall I built.

I’d walk into any storm.

I’d scorch every bridge behind me and let the ashes choke me if it meant you’d turn around

just one more time

and choose me again.

It’s dramatic.

It’s dangerous.

It’s not something I say out loud to anyone but this empty page.

But loving you never felt soft.

It felt like fire, hot, consuming, demanding.

And losing you felt like someone dropped that fire straight into my chest and left it burning there.

So yes, I’d do anything to bring you back into my orbit.

Anything that destroys me, and anyone else.

If devotion were a crime, I’d already be guilty.

If longing were a curse, I’d be permanently marked.

If killing the snake that poisoned yoy brought you back to me...

But the world doesn’t work that way.

And wanting you this intensely doesn’t pull you back to me.

It just leaves me here

smoldering in the ruins of everything I’m still willing to sacrifice…

for someone who isn’t looking my way anymore.