You’re the only one worth seeing, the only place worth being. The only bed worth sleeping’s the one right next to you.

I’m breaking.

Always something. Some way I want you to talk to me differently, some minute worry, some concern so far away I can feel your bewilderment.

On and on. Until it’s a steady stream we’re drowning in. Until the things that matter have stopped carrying weight, have stopped catching your attention. Because in my world, every worry matters, every worry feels painfully real, every worry takes over my being until nothing else matters.

I’ve lost 12 pounds since last September. I’ve been sick several times. My digestive system has completely altered. I spent a month with insurmountable insomnia. I’m not blaming those things on this relationship. But I think they’re related.

I am not well when I am close to someone. My anxieties and worries spin out into an all-encompassing shit show. I need so much reassurance.

I need to know, every day, that you love me. That not being in the same place has some kind of impact on you at all. That I matter because I’m me, not just because I am an interested woman. That this is hard for you too. That sometimes you feel so far away this seems unreal.

Every day.

Cold Cold Man — Saint Motel


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