Pulp – Bad Cover Version

’cause every touch reminds you of
Just how sweet it could have been
And every time he kisses you
It leaves behind the bitter taste of saccharine

Whenever a girl I really liked dumped me, I cheered myself up by thinking “She’s never gonna find someone like me. Her loss.” I believed my uniqueness made me this invaluable asset; this marvelous treasure that was a once in a lifetime opportunity to enjoy and that letting me go was the biggest mistake anyone could make. Full of myself much?
There’s no comfort in knowing that whom I lost will have to settle with spending the rest of her days without me. Uniqueness works both ways. Every hour she spends without her arms around me is an hour I spend without her arms around me. Every morning she wakes up without me naked by her side is a morning she isn’t naked by my side. Every breath she’ll take without smelling my musk is a breath I’ll take without inhaling her fragrance. And so on. A zero-sum game.
As you can see, I’m still suffering after my breakup and questioning the path I’ve taken in my life. I wonder if this is a normal part of the grieving process or if this is already on the toxic side of the spectrum. If it is, let’s blame it on the quarantine.

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