I felt insane. Stuck in my thoughts and suffering from a lack of self-control, I would spend hour after hour and day after day thinking about you. Thinking about how you loved me once, and how now you don’t. I was trapped in a cage, and I was unable to escape. Maybe because I loved you and thought that things should have never ended the way they did, or maybe because I wanted to feel stuck because I liked the way your indifference hurt.
I was totally and 100% aware of the feelings you didn’t have for me. I was very aware of the feelings you didn’t want to have for me. I was very aware that you and I were different people. But I ignored the facts. I ignored the reality. I didn’t care that we were different people. You could have introduced me to new ideas, cultures, values, and beliefs because that’s who you are and I love who you are. Knowing that you hadn’t changed your mind about me, I still persisted because a man would literally be dumb to give up on someone like you.
Maybe people were right. Maybe I was a little crazy. I willingly and knowingly failed to act in a rational manner for these past two and a half years. I didn’t entertain the idea that maybe we did change as people because I was so focused on the relationship we used to have, the conversation we used to share, and the kisses we used to exchange.
I’m pretty sure I was crazy. But I am also pretty sure that I was crazy for you.
The time we spent together was absolutely electric. The feelings you had for me were powerful, and your beauty was intense. I loved holding your hands, and holding you. I loved sitting in economics class with you and studying at the library with you and getting coffee with you. But all these things happened such a long ago. It’s alarming that I still assign such value to these memories. It’s alarming that I still assign so much value to you.
I haven’t been anything to you for over two years. I would text you only to be faced with superficial conversation. I would snapchat you, and you wouldn’t reply. And if you did it would take you hours. I would ask you to lunch and you would say no. I would ask you to hang out and you would come off as uninterested. I was in pursuit of your validation regardless of all these things because I knew in my heart that this wasn’t who you were. This wasn’t the girl I first met.
Was I crazy? Or was I crazy for you?
Two and a half years and three girls later I still find myself wishing you showed up my door. I still find myself wishing that I was what you wanted in a man. I still find myself wishing that our souls could join together like they did a long time ago.
So was I crazy? Or was I crazy for you? Honestly, I think I might have been both.