The Worst Part

is when your tears run down the side of your face and into your ear.
not when you're lying there, staring up at the ceiling like you've ended up doing every night since he's been gone
not accusing yourself of really being an atheist or just a really bad liar because why don't you do such and such for ex or why or thee or hating him for leaving those words on that message when believing it is even worse than just....

why say that? because you mean it? So. So do I. Cute. Great. I'm supposed to believe it, to tell you what you already know, what I'd been telling you at the end of every phone converstation not expecting agreement but still noticing each time there isn't any and then when he's adamavit aliquem ut adamandus, ut cupiendus. Then I shouldn't have believed it. amehercule credo id. cupio credere id? non. ita. cupio...non audire eo. and then right now. I mean right now, as soon as I finished non audire eo he signs on and we talk. nothing big. nothing much because he's got a meeting in an hour and i have a midterm in 5-

which reminds me. fuckity fuck.