I’m sorry for not understanding when you said you needed to be selfish. I’m sorry for hating you when you left. I’m sorry I couldn’t see that you needed to do it for your health, for your sanity, for your family. I’m sorry I begged you to come back to me, when you were crying and telling me that you couldn’t. I’m sorry I laughed off all of the warning signs. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to your best friend when he said you weren’t well. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.
But I hate you. I hate you for not telling me you needed help, even though I couldn’t help you. I hate you for not explaining why you were leaving me. I hate you for falling off the face of the earth. I hate myself for not listening to my friends. I hate myself for thinking I was going to fix you, when I always knew you were strong enough to do it without me. I hate you for not needing me half as much as I needed you. I hate you for never being mine and I’m sorry for never being yours.
You can’t tell me you don’t remember all those nights we spent together. Not fucking, not fighting, not falling in love. Just being a body in each other’s beds, holding each other, trying to wade through the depths of the bullshit we said to each other. How many lies did we tell each other? I wanted to connect with someone, and I think you did too. But we lied through our teeth and we laughed through our tears and we acted like we were on top of the world.
Remember when we left the bars together and I brought home a different guy, instead of you? You texted me and told me you wished I’d stayed with you. I ignored you, until I felt so confused and scared and unsure with the guy I was with that I left him in my bed and ran to your apartment. I fucked you in your kitchen, while someone who promised to love me slept in my bed. You dropped me off in the morning and I kicked him out for good. Then I went back to your apartment and snuggled in next to you…until you kicked me out.
Remember that girl you started dating? The one who hated me just because you loved me? She shouldn’t have been afraid; you were never mine any more than I was yours. Remember when you were blackout drunk and she got mad? You came to my bed because she wouldn’t have you in hers. You broke a window and you came to me at 3 am, bleeding and slurring. I let you in my bed and bandaged your hand and held you while you called her and told her I was nothing compared to her.
When you left the next day, you said you didn’t remember anything. But your blood was on my white sheets and I wished I didn’t remember anything either. I thought about crying when I threw them away. I didn’t. By then I knew I hated you just as much as I loved you.
Remember when you called me, after you’d left? I was so hurt and so confused and so very drunk when you called. I left my brother, I left my friends, to stand in a stairwell and cry with you because we missed each other so very much, because you needed your best friend again. I begged you to come back to me. “Come spend the night with me, I miss you I miss you I love ￼you I miss you. Come back to me.” And you did you always came when I asked. But I wasn’t the only one that was drunk. You were too drunk to drive and I was too drunk to realize it. I stayed up all fucking night waiting for you. After that, you never came when I called. And that was the end of my chance to love and hate you.
I moved on even while I stayed put. I stayed in town, kept fucking the same ex-boyfriend that you hated, that you begged me to get rid of once and for all. Would things have been different if I had told him goodbye when you begged me to? I doubt it. I loved him more than you I think I told you that once. How cruel.
We were unforgivably selfish. I wanted you to want me more than I ever wanted you. The same goes for you. I texted you though, when I sat down to write this. And you texted me back just now. My heart skipped a little bit. I grinned like a fool to see your name on my phone. And I still fucking love you just as much as I fucking hate you.