Here’s a secret I wish to share with you.
The reason why I keep running back to you, why I keep calling you, why I keep sending you that same message over and over, is about so much more than missing you. Yes, I miss you with every fiber of my being, but it’s worth even more than a conversation.
The truth is that reaching out to you is the purest form of self-torture I’ve ever endured. It is an unrelenting pain that I’ve been forcing upon myself since the day my world ended, and I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t addicted to the feeling.
Your silence reminds me of the pain I’ve felt since the day you walked away. It reminds me of the empty ache in my chest and quietly shames me for being so hopelessly naive.
And when you do answer, well, that is the most exquisite form of torture. For your simple reply shows me that to you, our parting is invisible. You wander about your day without even noticing how much things have changed. It reminds me that you accept me in your life, but that I will never have you the same way as I once did. It reminds me that from now on, I will be subjected to finding intricate details of your life scattered in the pictures on your wall but that I will never be the first person you tell. I will never again feel your eyes bore into mine, telling me all of the things we could never say.
And yet, as much as things have changed, it reminds me of all of the reasons why my heart chose you. You see, I enjoy soaking in the misery and loneliness.
And nothing feels more lonely than reaching out for you.