visiting hours

dearest james,

so, what were you doing exactly?

coming to plant bugs in our ears and force your way back into our brain cells?

all weekend i
cried for you
missed you
thought about you
dreamt about you
talked to you
googled you

and i finally had some time to look at my stats and saw i wasnt the only one.

it's like you were on a mission, bro. like, you were saying,

oh HELL no.
people are getting WAY too comfortable with me being dead.
fuck THAT shit.
lemme fuck with them a little...
WATCH this, Zaida.

and there you were all over the damn place, being annoying as usual.

(of course i mean that in the most loving way possible.)

at home, i have pictures of you everywhere, and it was hurting just a little less to look at them until this past weekend.

and just when i thought i was healing, you decide to rip the scabs open again, and this time i couldnt stop the bleeding no matter how many happy pills i popped.

you motherfucker.

that's not nice.

but point taken.

xx zaida xx