She Ruined Me, Deeper May 2026

And I don’t know how to build a new god out of these ashes.

Not because I’m weak. Because for a while—for one long, burning, beautiful while—the ruin felt like flying. And now that I’m on the ground, I know the truth. she ruined me, deeper

I can’t even hate her. That’s the ruin. Hate would be clean. Hate would be a knife. This is a disease. I still want her to text me. I still check my phone when a specific notification sound goes off. I still, for one sick half-second, believe it might be her. That’s the ruin. Not that she left. That she left a ghost of herself inside my nervous system. And I don’t know how to build a new god out of these ashes