Letters to Ghosts of the Past

The End of Us

To someone who I never imagined I'd hate as much as I do now,

I feel like when you meet someone, you know, somewhere in you, if that person is going to matter to you in the long run.

With you, I was never sure. I don't think it ever truly felt right when we spent time together. The main reason I convinced myself you were so important to me is because you were important to someone I would do almost anything for, someone I was willing to more than tolerate you for.

But when I look back on it, long after the storm you inflicted has ended, I've begun to see the truth of that time I tricked myself into thinking I mattered to you.

See, I can't even say we didn't create memories together that I'll always remember. I can't lie to myself anymore than I already have. And it hurts because some of the best memories I have with some of the best people in my life involve you.

I remember those nights when we both stayed up texting until one of us fell asleep. I remember that one night, after the first sign that you were about to walk away, that we stayed up until 4 am, just talking, and bearing our souls to each other.

I remember thinking that maybe, just maybe, things had gone back to normal.

I wish I could go back and figure out where we went wrong, but then I remember how you said I was the worst person you know, and how I actually believed you and how much that hurt me and how long your words stuck with me. They never left.

Because yeah. I may not be the most sensitive person, and I may not be the most understanding, hell, I'll be the first to admit I'm a total bitch.

But if there's one thing I am, above all else, it's loyal. When I care about someone, losing them will crush me. When I have people close to me and I lose them, I blame myself. I know I shouldn't, because it's usually not my fault, but in my mind, everything that happens is.

The memories I have of the times we were close won't fade, no matter how hard I try. It makes me miss a yesterday that I long to forget. And that's illogical. But in my mind, I'm the reason that yesterday faded away.

When I look at old pictures of us, smiling, happy, unaware of everything that is going to happen, I wish I could go back.

But if I got the chance to do so, I'm not entirely sure if I'd yell at myself to get away from you before you hurt me, or if I'd stay, because I remember being so happy back then.

One thing I know for sure, is that one of the worst things in life is knowing how something good ends.

I've discovered that sometimes, there's a difference between being happy and being strong.

Being strong is not letting you leaving stop me from living. Being happy is those people in those old pictures. They don't exist anymore, but it took me a little too long to figure that out.

I wish you knew how much your words hurt me. Sometimes I think you do. I see you every day and I don't see the person I knew. I see the shell of someone I once cared for.

When I look at you, I know the you I knew would hate who you are now. But who you are now isn't anywhere close to someone I could ever bring myself to miss.

That could be why it hurts so much, because the you I knew doesn't even exist anymore. They're as dead as a former version of one's self can be.

The times spent laughing until it hurt, or talking until we fell asleep, or crying until we couldn't anymore, they're long gone.

As the scars fade, and the dust clears, the memories set in, and I know that eventually they'll drive me insane.

There's nothing left to say in the end.

And as much as I hate the ending, I guess it started with an alright scene.