You’re The One Person Who I Can’t Let Go Of
You’re that person from my past who I can’t let go of. You’ve never broken my heart, per se, you just disappear and when you feel like coming back, I always let you back in. You must know this about me. You must know that when it comes to you, I’m weak.
Why did you call me again so many months ago? Why did you come back into my life after I had worked so hard to eradicate you? I guess despite your overly-loving approach and your softly spoken and carefully-chosen words about missing me, I knew deep down that it wouldn’t be different. But I couldn’t say no. I never can say no to you.
Just like it always does, it fell apart and I can’t say that I’m left mystified because I knew that it would happen. That’s just what loving you is. It’s an incredible high followed by the comedown. Just as I expected, I still struggle to let you go in my heart.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve unsubscribed from all your social media updates, it doesn’t matter that I’ve tried to move on by physically moving myself far away from you, you just keep coming back into my consciousness no matter how hard I try to push you out.
Long after I can feel that you have moved on, seemingly easily, I am still stuck in this fantasyland, one that never really existed, where in my mind we are perfect, we are together, and we are in love.
Now please don’t think that you’re all that matters to me in life. There are times when I do really well, when I don’t think about you much and I focus on myself. I’ll foolishly think that I don’t care for you anymore, and then you’ll enter my dreams and I’ll wake up sad and alone, but mostly angry at you for disturbing me again.
I know that it doesn’t make any sense, and I know that it’s pathetic, but sometimes when good things happen to me I wonder if you will hear about them. Actually, wonder is not a strong enough word. I hope against all of the odds that you will find out and it will somehow attract you to me again. When I walk down the street, even though there is a .1% chance that it could even be true, I wonder if maybe you might see me. I walk with my head high, I try to look as beautiful and confident as possible, because maybe, just maybe, it would make you pick up the phone and call me again.
When you do move on, I beg that the universe does not let me know. I hope that there’s no way for me to find out, because I’ll never really understand why we couldn’t have had a future. Maybe there was just something about me that was fundamentally not right for you. Realistically, I know deep down that you’re not right for me either.
I don’t want to keep looking at this closed door, but I haven’t found any as intriguing nor as inviting since you. It seems that you cast a spell on me and I’m left scratching my head wondering how in the world you did it.
Where did that strong, independent, charismatic woman who I was when I met you go? In many ways you are just like a drug – never really caring for me and yet I would cast everything aside, including all rational thought, just to be with you. How did I become reduced to an addict?
Your brown eyes used to be a window to my happy place, but now I’m drowning in them like deep puddles of treacherous water.
I know that eventually it will be OK. I know that I have felt this way before and I have moved on to bigger and better things. But it’s always easier to forget that, isn’t it? For unrequited love is the most addictive drug of all. Once again, I must suffer the withdrawal.