Give me something, anything.

I don't think I ever realized until now just how nourishing it is to feel truly loved. Not until I starved.

I’ve tried to hold my tongue, but it is slowly sliding down the back of my throat, obstructing my breath. I can’t breathe. Dried flowers may seem pretty hanging from their stems, heads directed at the floor, but I need water. I can’t keep pretending that his spit suffices. His silence is the very desert of my nightmares, the one where I am left stranded and alone. I am aware that many priorities precede me, but to constantly feel as though the floor will disappear from beneath me keeps me up at night and when finally from a shallow sleep I awake, facing another day seems unbearable. Plain and simple: I feel meaningless, utterly utterly meaningless. Any meaning I ever had was given to him and I wish I could just see what he's done with it.