(finaldraftREALtrashversion.txt)
openletterdraft13: i wasn’t supposed to feel this much
// open file: confession.txt
// modified: too many times
i loved you [ ]
and by loved i mean studied.
and by studied i mean starved.
and by starved i mean
i said “i’m not hungry” with your name in my throat.
INSERT IMAGE:
a girl in a bookstore touching the spines
like maybe one of them will understand.
INSERT IMAGE:
a girl standing in the moonlight,
asking the low-flying planes if she’s forgivable.
EXPORT FEELING:
named it something soft
so no one would notice it burned.
he said “i don’t want to hurt you”
which is what men say
right before they hurt you
with clean hands.
CTRL + ALT + DELETE
but nothing closes—
especially not the part
that keeps writing poems in his grammar.
[SYSTEM ERROR: too many metaphors. Simplify?]
i called it love.
he called it bad timing.
INSERT PASSWORD:
seeme
ACCESS GRANTED.
NEW NOTE:
i forgive you in lowercase.
you don’t deserve the shift key.
open file: ruinmefinaldraft.txt
last saved: 2:41am
user: girlwhoknowsbetter
status: still writing about him / (pathetic)
attachment: none (maybe that’s the point)
INPUT: I’m fine
OUTPUT: [you don't sound like it]
cpu temp: 100.4°F
(she's burning again)
I bit my nails and tasted April.
biometrics: unstable
heartbeat: typing...
eyes: exit-wound wide, still scanning
mouth: unsent, but spelling it with teeth
spine: error 504
/ BIOS update failed
// scroll depth: dangerous
// dopamine loop: infinite
poetry drafts: full
dignity: low
engagement: medium
attachments:
- crying.wav
- voice04833.m4a (unsent)
- screenshotwhiplash02.png
- idontbelieveyoudraftfinalFINAL.txt
NEW GOOGLE DOC:
title: every version of me you didn’t love
sharing permissions: view only
editing access: revoked
collaborators:
- me (12am), me (3am), me pretending I don’t care
- girlboss, gaslight, ghost
- nobody asked, everyone noticed, Taylor Swift
[CORRUPTED TEXT]
she said she was over it [DATA INCOMPLETE]
attachment: none (unless you count the damage)
[404: identity not found]
everyone says i look good
no one asks if i’m still here
the scale goes down
the poems get louder
the body forgets how to stay
[repetition detected: again, again, again, again]
click to translate: desperation
plaintext:
you’re not even that important
but i keep talking like you’re holy
what do you do with love
when no one wants to hold it?
click here to reveal what she meant (no one ever did)
>>> meanwhile: her stomach hurts for no reason again.
reminder: no one asked.
crash log: 3:14am, again
system flag:
are you sure you want to feel this much?
[no] [too late]
[user breakdown detected]
INSERT MESSAGE: “i’m sorry for my part.”
STATUS: unacknowledged
TIMESTAMP: one year ago
attachment: olive_branch.png
recovery mode engaged (no progress)
autosave: corrupted
exported: only the parts that hurt
I googled "am I spiraling"
and then took the quiz twice.
cloud access: denied
her incision itched—
but not as much as the silence.
the body healed.
the meaning didn’t.
when she stands up too fast and sees stars,
she names them after him.
draft saved: yes
sent: no
read: no
felt: yes
ruined: absolutely
I’ve written forty-seven poems that almost said it right.
trash folder: full
memory: still running
love: running in background (not responding)
[DATA COLLISION]
she realized she never even asked for this
she just tried to make it mean something
CTRL + ALT + ME
(force quit)
> everything backed up
> nothing backed down
> terminal still open