A Portrait Of Idealized Unhappiness

that granite counter top, i can feel it in my stomach, just like sharp rocks, it was made out of, just like us. at this point if i could do myself one favor, it would be to remember that how it was. the thought of your house makes me nervous, and the thought of your bed keeps me awake, i forgot all the bad parts, supposedly for my own sake. if my happiness was so dependent on yours, like i thought it to be, i would have allowed my eyes to see the whole picture like you couldn't help yours to see, and i was so immersed in your brushstrokes, and what complexities two colors and one paint brush does, i was so deeply in awe of its beauty i did not look to see what the picture was.