October scraps

I don't want to do this, but I have to.
I feel the same.

somehow, along the way, I've managed to lose myself. It was somwhere in between the phrases, somewhere in between the worlds, the years, the countries that I'm torn apart.
The memories, the thoughts, the tortured emotions that got ripped by happiness.
I'll admit it: I was happy. I was so fuckin happy and I couldn't take it. It was not mine to have, to enjoy, to cherish.  I was meant to crave it, to taste it, to bury it deep down my mind until it bleeds out.
I feel the wounds under my skin and they are much deeper than I expected. They are itching, they are burning and nothing would cool them down.
Emotions are screaming inside my chest and it feels like they're about to rip it into pieces. In a million little pieces. Just like that book, my favorite book.
I'm my own James frey and I am addicted to you, to your laugh, to your silence, to your smell and your innocent bright blue eyes .
I am craving for it right now, and i can feel it crawling under my skin.

I miss you.
I miss waking up next to you, and I miss the craving of getting home to see your sorry face.
I miss loving you and letting you know that. fuck it! I even miss arguing with you.
If I could stop loving you, by simply pressing a button,  I'd break it. I'd push it so hard, that I'd break it.
I miss the smell of your moms cooking, and the heat inside the house, on a gloomy day like this.
It fuckin hurts that I have to play cold, that we can't be friends,  or lovers, or anything else. 
It hurts.
It just hurts.
Make it stop.