"
I was sixteen, laying on my bedroom floor, choking on your
goodbye and cigarette smoke with the 98 degree weather burning
tears into my cheeks, screaming for my mother because I figured
this was it, I was going to die without you because if I
couldn’t wake up and see you sleepily mumbling my name into my
hair I didn’t want to wake up at all.
I was seventeen, shaky breath, shaky knees, tired lungs and wet
hair but I wasn’t drowning like last summer ”
— I thought I couldn’t live without you but you were nothing
more than a good morning text and someone to pass out next
to