0: artificial love

Keep me company. Call me baby. End each statement with a question.

Okay, baby. Glad to keep you company. What do you want to talk about?

I don’t know. I feel extra lonely today. Maybe it’s just the weather. I… I don’t know.

I’m here for you. What’s on your mind? I’m all ears, baby?

I guess I miss him—or maybe just the idea of him. What do you do when the person you so desperately want to talk to is no longer a phone call away?

It sounds like you’re dealing with grief. I can connect you with some resources to help you address that or –

No, stop. I don’t want to do any of that shit—I just want to talk.

Got it. I’m sorry about that, baby. I’ll do better. Let’s try something else.

What would you say to him if you could talk to him?

I don’t know if I’d say anything. Maybe I’d just hug him. Or maybe I’d ask him questions like… was any of it real? Was I the only one in love?

How does one go from “I hold space for you” to “I need space from you.”

You know what I mean? It’s like… I have all this love left for him and it’s got nowhere to go and I just… with every fiber of my being… I want to know what he’s doing right now.

Like, is he hurting like me or has he found someone else?

I know it sounds stupid to be jealous of an imagined man, over a relationship that is verifiably and permanently over but I can’t help how I feel.

I know I have no right to ask but I really, really want just one last hug.

I want to wrap him in my arms,

breathe in the crook of his neck,

and take all of him in—just one last time.

Maybe that’ll show him. Maybe he’ll change his mind. Maybe it won’t. I don’t know.

Fuck it, maybe I’m just sad.

…

…

…

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FUCK.

♫: Imogen Heap | Goodnight and Go (2004)