I don’t want to love you anymore because I want to go to sleep. The hours tip toe around one another, while I’m wide-awake, talking the ears off of the sheep above my head. They are smoking cigarettes, rolling their eyes, yelling profane things back at me hoping I’ll just fall asleep already so they can go about their nightly business.
Because I want to be able to go on a date with someone new and not think about you. Not compare the poor lad’s jaw structure to the ways of your chiseled face or think about how I can’t wait to order oysters as an appetizer because I know you’d be thrilled to share them with me. I want to be able to French kiss someone else without thinking about the swirls of your tongue on the roof of my mouth, like defined brush strokes on a familiar canvas.
I don’t want to love you anymore because I’m sick of feeling upset, all the time. I don’t want my heart to break again and again when my friends nonchalantly ask me about you. I don’t know where you are, what you’re eating for lunch, the latest book you’re struggling to get through. I don’t know anything about you anymore. But they won’t stop asking.
I don’t want to love you anymore because everything reminds me of you. The most ridiculous things remind me of you.
Because it’s hard to move on.
Because I don’t know how.
Because I’m no good at it. My grade school report card would read: excellent at sharing, storytelling, and being an enthusiastic line leader. Needs to work on mastering the dynamic elements of falling in love.
I don’t want to love you anymore because you give me permanent acid reflex and indigestion. The nerves bubble in my stomach and I’m overcome with this anxious spell like I’m one of the last kids waiting to get picked for the kickball team. You’re taking a long time to make your selection and my legs are beginning to shake because I have to pee and also, the granola bars in the dugout are making intense eye contact with me.
I don’t want to love you anymore because I forgot how to love myself. I won’t shower, or eat, or sleep, or smile for days. These are things I want to love, again, more than you.
I don’t want to love you anymore because it’s never fun being the only one in love. It feels like you’re making out with a plastered wall or sending undeliverable pieces of mail. It’s miserable and lonely; and I don’t want to love you anymore because then maybe I’ll finally be able to find someone who loves me back.
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