You are dead to me
And I don’t mean that as an insult or as a stab at you but I feel as if the Michael I knew and cared for died in that moment.
I am in mourning of my lover.
Thinking of seeing you now repulses me, the thought of your very touch makes me quiver.
I can never forgive you for this, not because I won’t but because I can’t.
You’ve brought me to my lowest low in a time where I need all the support and courage and confidence and strength I can muster.
You are dead to me.
A whole new feeling to the phrase filled with sorrow.
I will never not feel this empty sharp pit or this hot furious pounding pulsating from my ears when I hear that phrase being used.
Shame on you.
Michael is a filthy ugly rat go FUCK YOURSELF. Tomorrow I will be wearing black in mourning.