mckenzington

I love you. I always say it and I always will. Until the words look funny written down and they feel funny coming out of my mouth. But only in the way that a word becomes worn out when you say it too many times in a row and not in the way that it becomes any less true. My mouth will get used to forming the letters one by one and I'll be able to type them with my eyes closed. But I won't get used to the feeling I get when I say it because when I say it, it's like striking a match every time because every time I remember the first time I said it. The match heats up my body and dies slowly, over and over again. I never run out of matches and they always strike on the first try.

I've always been fascinated with time. I'm an extremely nostalgic person and the type that's highly affected by the changing of seasons. I always jokingly have my boyfriend explain to me how time works, because one drunken night he and a friend tried to explain black holes and the spacetime continuum to me with a plastic sandwich bag and a pencil. But what's most interesting to me is how time heals. I used to harbour a lot of shame and anger and sadness for an experience I had earlier this year, so much so that even hearing the person's name made me sick to my stomach. I was young and inexperienced and desperate to be loved so I threw myself into something that was bound to fail. I saw all of the signs but I let it crumble around me anyway. For a long time after it happened, I couldn't see or hear anything associated with that person without feeling sick and upset. So I did everything in my power to avoid just that. But I recently came across screenshots