My brother sent me a playlist of songs by Dermot Kennedy and Dean Lewis. Normally, I'd listen to these kind of songs over and over until I've internalised every heartbreak lyric and melody, but recently sentimental songs like this take me back to a place that I can no longer bear to revisit. It's not so much that I'm not strong enough, but it seems almost like my subconscious has blocked out certain memories for the sake of my own sanity. # thank you self 

I guess I haven't gotten over you yet (at least not completely). I don't know about you, but technically that's a topic I shouldn't even broach since we're supposedly in a period of 'no contact' - whatever that even is. Honestly, I’m so tired of games and stupid labels. If someone loves you, they love you. If they want to spend time with you, they will spend time with you. If they want to talk to you, they will talk to you. If they want to be in a relationship with you, they will. It shouldn't be that complicated.

You were sitting at a round table next to (her) and a bunch of guys I assume were your classmates. I'd never met any of them before. You looked ridiculously stoned and it wasn't funny nor attractive in the least. "What the fuck?" I didn't know how else to respond, seeing you high again after so long. I think I was still extremely pissed with you and somewhat disappointed. I could tell you didn't want to acknowledge me. "Are you kidding me?" Your so-called 'friends'' started looking at me and snickering like 'What's this girl trying to get at?' and I said "Hi?" for the last time. My patience was running out, and my emotions were wearing thin. There was something about that mindless grin on your face that blew a fuse in me, so I left. Ignorance is a losing game. (Surprisingly, I went to paint). Suddenly, it seemed that you awoke from your drunken stupor, and I looked up from my easel to see you walking my way, wanting to talk.