Allusions.

I have not romanticized the fucked up-ness on being so dependent on someone to such an extent that I believe that the inability to function adequately sans your presence is a celebrated norm.

We can survive apart, obviously – people have proven to be able to survive most things we thought we can’t – but I don’t want to. Your presence is a fixture in my life I’d like to remain permanent.

Except you choose to fit me between the gaps of your life when your time is unoccupied, ‘Run along now, I’m busy, go play with the other kids until I’m free to pick you up later.’

Maybe I read too much into these things. Maybe I’m just a clingy, insecure little fuck.

But the truth is I’ll never be busy enough to not miss you. And maybe that’s why it hurts the way it does.

“And she wants to know she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept.”

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