he does not exist, the same way you do not exist. there’s no way to look into your eyes, to pat your hand, to smell your breath. you’re as real as he is. you both stare at me from a computer screen, and you’re both “real” in a way that will never be enough. if i squint, you look like you’re close by. if i close my eyes, i can pretend my chest doesn’t hurt. if i only take shallow breaths, it’s like you’re hanging in the air, like i can touch you if i stretch out my hand.

i don’t stretch out a hand. this way i can keep taking shallow breaths