have a sad cum
I’ve become haunted by your presence or lack there of. I sit still and silent because everything hurts. I contemplate texting you but I choose against doing so. I haven’t decided if that makes me weak or strong. I feel stuck in the past and there seems to be no going forward. I try but nothing. I need better distractions. I’ve jerked off for the third fucking time tonight, I stumbled across a porn we watched together and it just made me crave you entirely that much more. The hardness of your body on top of mine. Your long lean torso and those protruding hip bones. Looking at your abs while you fucked me. I miss the strength of your arms and softness of your lips, I miss the marks they used to leave on my neck. Fuck, I cum thinking about you and wonder if you do the same. I clean up and try to read, nothing. I aimlessly click through movie titles trying to chose one that will keep thoughts of you at bay but I don’t even have the strength to laugh at this stupid comedy I’m now watching. So I’m back to being still and silent. I hate this town. I’m lonely. I don’t feel incomplete but I do feel lost. Here comes the wave of insecurity, I try and find a clue you may have put out there that says “I fucking miss you, I’m a mess without you. You’re not alone.” This disgusts me because I am not rooting for your failure, I want you happy but it upsets me that I won’t be present. We are no longer a part of each other lives. I want to call you because it hurts that bad sometimes. I ache for you and I want to hear your voice. It’s selfish but I want to know it’s hard for you too and what if you’re happier without me? Anxiety sets in and I feel worthless. I made the mistake of reading your texts once: “I’m doing ok I just feel bad for x” it tore me apart. It was you who broke up with me and it was me that seemed to have really fucked up and you’ve given me no indication that it was otherwise or equal parts. You’re strong and proud and here I am at 1 am fucking writing about you while you’re studying for some exam or watching a movie or maybe fucking some boy. Is it so awful to want to know that I cross your mind? Did I love you too hard or not enough? Am I just a mess of a boy that’s cried the same tears for years and that led you to stray?