Open the window

I've felt different...

I kept stopping every once in a while- right after my shower, smoking a cigarette, before I laid my head down. I thought about what he feels, how much pain digs into the darkness inside of him, cementing itself... I thought about if he was too lost off of something to even feel it. I would push that thought out. I wanted to kiss his neck and fall asleep on his chest, legs intertwined, waking up suffocated and breaking loose, falling asleep agitated, waking up again and crawling back into the same spot I was suffocated in. Like we always have. To know he was safe. Then more thoughts would come, they would make me sick so I'd tell myself to revise them. I couldn't. (I never saw, I would have pulled him up if I would have seen. I could swear to him I wouldn't have let him sink. I would have done something. I know I could have, I could have.) "stop doing this to yourself". So I'd alter them. Where ever he was, I'd want him to be happy so I'd pray for him to get better, to get up and walk. I didn't care if he was walking away from me, I just wanted him to walk. All of that is besides the point. This entry is besides the point.

----> .

Anyway (inhale)
....
...
....
..
....(exhale)

I can breathe again.
I just don't want to get a call from his family and hear that he's not.
I'm scared. to say the least.