I Thought I Was Over You

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Just when I thought that I might actually have a shot at liking someone after being so hung up on you, for some reason all our memories come rushing back like the flood.

I hate it. I hate it so much.

I fucking hate you so much.

I just want to be able to live my life normally, having a crush here and there but for some reason, my brain keeps reminding me of you. Every time I see Sean O’pry’s name I think of you. Every time it rains, I think of you. Every time I hold a cigarette, I think about you. I hate that I see you in every little thing.

I’m fucking sick of thinking of you, of what you’re doing, how you’re feeling. I told myself that I was over you and here we are six months after and I’m still feeling this way.

What I would fucking give just to talk to you like the way we used to.

I miss you.

Fuck.

There.

I said it.

I miss you, and I can’t stop repeating it in my head and in my heart because I do. I do.

We had a class earlier about love, and we answered a test about liking/loving someone. I remember the last time I answered those questions I was thinking about you, and earlier today I found myself thinking about you because honestly, I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. It’s subtle but it’s strong. It’s overflowing but not rushing, it’s chaotic yet peaceful.

And I keep wondering if you ever miss me, too. Because I’d like to think that what we had was something that we both shared, not just something that I just felt. Because you were genuinely someone I trusted deeply. And I never do that. You probably know me better than my own parents.

But maybe I’m OK even if we don’t become something more as long as I am in your life and you are in mine. And that’s the saddest thing, I suppose, that I think about you not being in my life and it makes me sad. And you haven’t been in my life for these past six months and this is the most miserable that I’ve been. I’m lost beyond reason and I can’t find my way back.

It’s 1:11 AM and all I can think about is the million times that we’re still talking at this hour or me falling asleep to you talking and continuing it the next day. I miss that. I miss us. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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