This is miserable.
I want back the person I loved. I want the person with whom I’ve been digesting my day for the past two years. I want the person who held my hand through movies. I want the person who always took the uncomfortable side of the bed, who held me when I cried, who called me his little bee, who said that lying around and doing nothing with me was far better than doing anything with anybody else. I want back the person with whom I’ve explored so many cities, who excited my imagination more than anyone else ever has, who made me feel safe and valued and loved because I thought… I thought that he would keep me safe and value me and love me, I guess. I want my Greg–mine–not this strange creature he’s becoming. What the fuck happened, and why so fast? Was any of it ever real, and did I love someone who was only an act?
Stop the world and let me off, just for a moment, thanks. I need to go retch up my dinner.