writing to strangers because my dearest is not in the mood for me. Most likely the greatest deception of all; to be so close yet to feel so far. As though every step we take to become technically more exclusive and each other’s, results in me losing more access to your thoughts. Previously a well kept secret, a confident, now other. Now a reason to need some time alone, to build elaborate escapes, to wait to be in the mood for hugs. There was a time not so long ago where you’d try to get away from others and you’d bless me with your thoughts and feelings.

I don’t know why I’m so quick to anger. It catches quietly and builds momentum before I can take another breath. Just a rush of blood in my ears. It crests. Often quickly and I’m so sorry. I don’t agree that it’s always my fault, but I’m always sorry for it. And the thought of going to bed angry makes me ill, so I’ll apologise again and time again, because I can’t stand otherwise. I made a promise and maybe you don’t remember, maybe you need more time and I’m just too much of a roller coaster.

It takes my breath away. If you find it difficult to deal with my emotional, fatalistic, self-sabotaging bullshit, then you’ve no idea how I feel. Sometimes it’s like watching a slow motion, black and white crackly screened picture before your eyes. In the background, unable to control your body, no forethought of the consequences, not even to fully feel liable. I don’t know how to begin venting, my escapes are all so far away. I’m so nervous about fucking this up.

Were things different before or have I just tinted my memories with overdramatics and rose-coloured lenses? Were they more tender and full of hope, a little less jaded and tired? Are you regretting it? Was it a snowball that picked up momentum and grew too quickly for you to stop and check? In the middle of a cold, long night, when the darkest insecurities rear their ugly heads, I’ll admit, I think you deserve infinitely better than me. That you’re too good for me. That I never expected this and so I was and am unprepared and winging it, albeit terribly.

However much I find it a bitter pill to swallow each time you choose something over resolving our disagreements and making up, especially before sleep takes us, God, how I love you, with everything I am.

Ever since we began speaking, no matter the difference in time zones, never has a night gone by without saying goodnight. How can it be so easy to fall asleep without that, when we lay 10m from each other? I shouldn’t be losing my insight to your thoughts now that we’ve ceased to text. I hate that.

The space between your arms is the only place I’ll ever have a need to be.

The utter stillness behind a vacant expression, free from the confines of time, spanning a vast and endless space. A trembling aloneness amongst billowing plumes of tender feelings, sugarplum dreams, senseless confusion. We promised to never go to sleep angry. What else?

It’s hard to plan a wedding when your parents haven’t talked to you in weeks. When they accuse you of torturing them and of being their biggest shame. It’s difficult when your brothers don’t reply to your messages, and your friends are all halfway across the world, when your best friend is dealing with her own hurdles, and when you barely know your bridal party. It’s difficult when you have to let go of some of your dreams and when some of the ideas you really value are easily dismissed or barely accepted. At the end of the day, the material things don’t matter one bit, at the end of the days you’re so terribly grateful that you are blessed with this great moment. The assistant at the dress store says to pick a dress that will forever emblazon the memory of you in his mind. You realize that that is exactly what you want to do. Then comes the part of accepting that it’s not something that’s a priority in his day, that you won’t have that moment that every girl deserves. The one where she feels absolutely beautiful and perfect for one brief second. And you think, if you have to sacrifice that, at least you should be able to have a family that will celebrate your joys with you. To make this day one of the best in your life. Not something that you’ve began to dread. And if you can’t have that moment and you can’t have your family, it’s easy to begin to lose sight and to forget the point. And that’s the worst thing of all. Because you love this man and he’s really trying and you appreciate it, more than words can say and actions can express, and you feel petty and guilty and like the worst person in the world. And you’re stupid so you rant about it on tumblr and your hide under your covers and you wish with all your heart that you make it through this because deep inside what you’re really worried about is that all of this is coming close to triggering another breakdown and you’ve been good for so long and it would be a terrible shame to begin slipping again.