He took up a lot of space in my life, and without him, things are saggy. The support beams are rotted, and I have to go around and replace some things. Reach out to all the friends that I’ve been ignoring to make sure that I’m directing my attention to him (he’d get pissy if I looked way for too long, even though he was just bitching about work and other people who I did not know anyway), go to the gym finally maybe or at least do the physical activity that he never wanted to do the progressively fatter fuck that he is, eat my own food which is far superior to the repetitive pizza place that he lives off of, revamp my professional life so that I can get fucked well and on a regular basis by men who will have a drink ready for me when I arrive and know when to use lube.
The river is love, the river is lust, and my body is submerged in it, and I am exhausting everything I have as all of my muscles strain against a force as powerful as the earth itself, the innate pull of water everywhere to the bottom of the ocean floor, to be pushed away by new water that also wants to be there, maybe even more. And the drive of all humans to take our weak, barely warm spark and combine it with another, maybe rub to create some fire, maybe make more. This is love.