They always come back the second you stop thinking about them. The second you become involved in your own life. The second they stop running through your mind as involuntarily as blood in your veins. That’s when they come back. Send you a text. (Usually, a drunk one.)
Finally, when you stop checking your phone every two minutes, expecting their name to pop up on your cracked screen, that’s when you get the text. Just when you start to feel free, comfortably alone in your bed, they rope you back in.
It could be subtle, with a “like” on your Instagram or Facebook photo. Or it could be a drunk text saying “Hey. Love”, whatever the hell that means. You tell them that they shouldn’t text you now, to reevaluate when they’re sober. “You’re right”, they say. It takes every molecule in your body not to go off and tell them that they won’t be “thinking about us” later that night with whoever they end up with (because if they can’t have you, they will end up with someone). To not tell them to go screw themselves because you aren’t going to be their back-up booty any longer. To tell them that they probably won’t even remember thinking about you, let alone texting you, in the morning. That they should go have fun with their friends, because that’s what they chose.
They had no right to do this. No right to carelessly drag you back into their life once you finally start your escape. To them, they missed you for a second, or thought about you for a second, or was just bored for a second. But don’t be fooled by the text, it meant so much more to you than it did to them. They didn’t think before they pressed “send”. They never thought about how their actions would affect you while you were dating, why would you think they’re any different now? You thought their text meant they were changing, that they wanted to be with you.
But it was just an impulse. A flicker from the old flame you shared. Basically, that text didn’t mean shit to them. They still “don’t want a relationship”. They still want to sleep around and get blackout every other day. They still would rather spend their nights with Mary Jane luring them to sleep instead of you. They want to be single; they don’t want to be with you. And that’s what you’re letting them do.
This is what they wanted, but it’s not enough for them. They have to take everything. And just as you start to accept the reality of moving on, they make you start over. You have to re-live the confusion and pain of being left by someone you thought you would always be safe with.
When you text your ex, you throw them back into the 8th circle of hell, also known as “being dumped”. You give them false hope, because they probably assumed you put at least a second of thought into your decision to text them (which you didn’t). You show her, once again, how little you care. Because you would put them through so much pain on a mere whim. You acted on an impulse,
Don’t fucking text your ex.