You didn’t want to date me. You had the chance. You could have gotten into my heart, or at least into my bed, but you turned down both opportunities. You didn’t want my affection. You didn’t want me.
You pulled at my heartstrings. You played with my emotions. Then you went weeks without speaking to me. You flirted with other people in front of me. You made me question my looks, question my standards, question my worth. You put me through a shit ton of back and forth, only to walk away without giving me anything in return.
Half the time we spent together was sexually tensed, adrenaline fueled, butterfly inducing. But the rest of the time was pure misery. It was time spent sitting up at night, staring at my phone, waiting for you to answer when you had already forgotten about me. It was time spent in front of the mirror, trying to look good for you, when you barely even glanced my way. It was time spent wallowing in self-doubt and self-hatred. It wasn’t anything worth missing.
No matter how much effort I poured into you, you didn’t give me a piece of your heart. You gave me mixed signals. You gave me runaround answers. You gave me heavy, wet baggage.
I wanted you because of the excitement, because of the mystery, maybe even because of the chase. But that didn’t mean I wanted the chase to last forever. I wanted something real with you. I wanted to settle down. I wanted to be your only one.
I would have loved to get to know you better, as more than an eye-candy face and a sexy voice, but you kept me at an arm’s length. Whenever it felt like I had chipped away at your walls, you boarded them right back up again. You never let me creep too close. You shut down around me. You made sure the only vulnerable one in the room was me.
That didn’t stop me. I still texted you, flirted with you, set aside hours upon hours for you. I still whispered secrets about my worries and my past and my family and my fears. And you still wanted nothing to do with me. You rejected me. You could have had me in a heartbeat, but you turned me down without a second thought.
I shouldn’t miss you because there isn’t a chance in hell you miss me. You’ve moved on. You’re long gone. You’re not dwelling on the soft hearted girl who had a thing for you years ago. You’ve probably forgotten all about me by now. It’s not like you were thinking about me all that much even when we were in each others lives, which is why it shouldn’t feel like it’s a bad thing you’ve run away.
We were nothing. Not a couple. Not even friends, not really. I meant absolutely nothing to you, so I don’t know why you still mean anything at all to me.