Love is a battlefield

I haven't told anyone but I am wearing his shirt. I am wearing this plaid shirt I used to constantly steal from him. Now he isn't here to fight me for it and I'm wearing it and I feel closer to him in our apartment in Chicago even though he isn't here and I'm mostly sure I should hate him. Hate him for ruining this good thing. Hate him for this very moment, this strange new life, this version of myself willingly packing my things and moving away because I am too scared to try anymore here.