To You,
I think about you constantly.
I think about you so much more now than I did then and it's baffling to me because I thought this was done. I thought it was over. I thought I was done.
But you're still there. You're still ever-present in my not-so wandering mind and I don't want you there. I want you gone.
I write about you and dream about you and feel you but you're no longer there, are you? You don't think about me, do you?
Of course not. Even when you were supposed to, you so rarely did and it's what broke us. And I know that.
God, I know that.
And still, my treacherous brain puts that on the back-burner and brings forth the memories in which we're laughing and loving and infatuating. The memories where you smile and I smile because you smile and it's beautiful and warm and I miss you like I have never missed anything before.
You're on a loop for me and every time I think I've escaped the cycle, I'm back to square one. The same square one where I yearn to hear your voice, feel your touch, breathe the same fucking air as you do. But I won't.
Mentally; I know better. I know to resist and stay away and pine from afar because I remember how much it hurt to love you in close proximity.
But emotionally; I am so fucking weak for you still. My heart is so stationed on you that I don't know how to move it. Hell, I can barely nudge it.
I want to message you and I go to and I read our last messages and then I don't. I don't message you because I remember my exhaustion as I wrote those last messages and how you had exhausted me of every inch of love I had for you. Correction; have for you.
So I don't message you and yet somehow, that makes me feel worse. How completely insane is that? I know it's good for me not to and yet it feels like torture that I don't.
And I barely miss the relationship, I can live without it and I did for the last few months. What I miss is the friendship. The part where you were my best friend and the only person I could share certain views and opinions with because I had the full knowledge that you would agree or we'd argue but it would be constructive.
I miss the stupid days where we lounge around eating junk food and rewatching shows that we barely care about but it didn't matter because it was you. And it was me. And we were us.
Can you understand at least a fraction of that pain?
Maybe you do. Maybe I've just convinced myself to believe that you cared less than I did but in actual fact; you did care. You just had a hard time showing it.
Or maybe that's my own wishful thinking. Maybe I just don't want to hurt like this alone.
I can go without your kisses and I can go without burying my face between your legs but this knowledge that I will never be able to share the simplicity of a joke with you again...that's what breaks me in two. That's what shatters my already cracked heart.
The way we ended ensured there was no going back. We'd made that abundantly and violently clear to one another. We'd said things we could never take back and things that could never be forgotten and in truth, I regret a lot of it. And some of it I don't. Because there were truths in my words and I know there were truths in yours.
We could never just ignore what was said and start anew, that's not a luxury we'd offered each other at the end. When we ended, we did so with finality and now I wish we hadn't. I wish we'd been...kinder with our words. More thoughtful.
