It’s the boy who’s no stranger to your thoughts, the one who’s lingered ’round there many a times before. Of course it is. When is it ever not? You keep crawling back to him like a bad habit and you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to crack it; he was an addiction that made you laugh for no good reason, stopping all means of your rational thinking. Got you horny like ecstasy and like shrooms too, the way he filled your life with colour. Is he worth it? Of course he’s not.
But it’s been a while since his lips were next to yours and the closest you can get to this again is conversation through the phone. Maybe a distance apart, nonetheless the same mouth on the other side of the call. You can’t help but crave the feeling he once gave. You say hello, he says hello. Thank God he picked up, but he’s asking what’s up – and you weren’t really looking for small talk. You’ll say you’re sorry (what did you do wrong?), and he’ll say he loves you (this is why it always went wrong), and you wont say it back. Because you’d actually mean it.
We’ve all had one. That one “we almost dated” kinda thing that you could never get over because you never got closure. He was probably what we would call a fuckboy. It was the kind of thing that ran on hope and hope alone, because there was never actually any substance. It was the kind of thing that wasn’t nothing, but you couldn’t exactly say what it was either, because there was no consistency.
And this is exactly why you held onto it so much – because after all that time, after all those almosts, you were just waiting for something to finally show for it. You were holding onto the hope that when you ended up in his arms, you’d be saying, “I knew it would be worth it”. He lead you on like a dog on a leash, and whether he knew that or not, he sure as hell wouldn’t have done anything about it. This is what we could call the fuckboy fallacy.
So, as a result you can’t help but think, “How can I let go of something that was never even in my full grasp?”
You cant stop thinking about him.
You think about the way he seized your heart yet made you feel so alive all at once.
You think about what you could’ve been.
And you cant stop drinking about him.
And so yes, you can take a shot with a “fuck you” dedicated to said unrequited love, with a bunch of sweaty strangers in a place where the music’s too loud. You can take your repressed longing that came with the angst of being a lovelorn little fuck out on somebody who isn’t him. You can build up the liquid courage to come up to him, and then build up the liquid idiocy to tell him that you love him and that you’re sorry.
But the thing is, he won’t be worth it. He was never worth it. He will never be worth it. “How can I let go of something that was never even in my full grasp?”, you ask? Well, this is what you need to remember: it will never be gone – because it was never there in the first place.