It Hurts

I realize that my body dysmorphia is just a distraction.

From all the things that still bother me.

The really important things that kill me deep down inside...

I still love him...

Can you really even learn to un-love someone?

I still wish upon a star that he was the one.

And I still have the deep down part of me that believes he was genuine when saying that if I became homeless, he'd give me a place to stay. Because he cared about his friends.

I know deep down somewhere that I'm not imagining this. Him also asking about my future like his life depended on it. Him wanting to spend the whole day with me: breakfast, lunch, dinner, hiking, motel sex...

I wish I could just go to sleep and never wake up out of the dream, pretending he never existed.

Because then, maybe, just maybe I could just be labeled the schizophrenic nutjob who had no grip on reality.