I think that’s it. I think that’s why I’m an artist, a writer. Nothing is quite so lonely as the craft. It’s all about searching yourself, knowing yourself, killing yourself and rebuilding yourself. It’s about losing yourself and finding yourself, and you do it over, and over, and over, and over. The things that come out of it always come from love, from hate, from the things that keep you going because being alone will try to stop you, but then being alone is what makes you continue, too.

I’m an artist because I’m lonely. And maybe I’m lonely because I’m an artist. It was a mistake to fall in love because I’m realizing now that I will never fall out of it.

Don’t ever let an artist, a writer, a creator, love you. They won’t ever stop.

Today has been one of those days where my heart is so heavy that I can physically feel its every beat, like it has to work ten times as hard as normal to keep the blood moving through my body, like it has to remind me that I’m still alive even though it doesn’t want me to be. It only has the one job, the one, difficult job. Keep me alive. Even when it’s broken, even when it continues to break, even when it isn’t sure if it will ever heal back together, when it knows that if it does it’ll be scarred in all the wrong places, it keeps going. It keeps going.

I’ve always been lonely. I didn’t know what it was like to love. And now that I do, I’m lonelier than ever. It’s worse. It is so, so much worse. And I know I’m not alone, but with rain pouring outside (a rain I know he loves, a rain I used to love) I find myself sitting in this bedroom without light, without sound, (without him), without anything but myself and my heart. But I can’t even really be sure that I have myself or my heart either (because I think he has those, too).

Except that my heart is in my chest. Still beating. It’s telling me it’s there. But it’s hard to believe.

Hold on to the ones you love. Love and love and love and love them. The way that I do. Don’t you take it for granted, or for anything, for almost nothing lasts. Take it from me. Anything is better than lonely, and a heart already has too much to do.

Today I confronted her and she told me everything. In return, I told her everything. I asked her not to tell him but she didn’t listen. I just wanted to get five words in before he decided to avoid me forever.

"I saw you kiss her."

I know everything now. He can’t hide forever. I just need to say to his face “fuck you” so I can be done with it for good.

I won’t hold your hand when you’re lonely
when you want me
when you got nothin’ to do