Why We Can’t Be ‘Just Friends’

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There is something terribly wrong going on. I don’t know if its Mercury’s retrograde, or a full moon, or voodoo magic. But we need to talk. Urgently.

The truth is that I miss you. I don’t know why, but I miss the time we spent together. I miss the hockey games, I miss the concert outings, I miss the hotel room soirées. I miss laughing about your attempts to impress me, I miss you coming to my practices, and washing the dishes in your new apartment. I miss that awful overly used definition of “us”. I miss the feeling of thinking I always have to look put together because I never know when I’m going to run into you.

Every time a song comes on the radio, or somebody walks by me in the subway wearing your cologne, my heart drops and I get this annoying tingling sensation on the back of my neck. It’s appalling. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, or what kind of spell I’m under, but I need this to go away. I need to be able to move on, to stop living in my memories, and start making new ones, with new people.

You know, I figured time would help me melt away any anxieties I had about you. I really did. I was doing quite well, I must say; some people were even impressed. And I’ll give you credit for consistently dropping in, to selfishly remind me of your existence. You know, in case I ever forgot.
But I can’t give in to your failed attempts to reassure me that there’s still hope, because there isn’t. We need to completely dissolve our relationship to the point where I don’t feel bad about deleting your number from my phone. We need to ‘break up’ our break up.

I think I found a simple solution to crack the code of getting over you. It’s simple; all I’m asking for is a fuck-up on your part. A pregnant ex-girlfriend, or a jail sentence… Even something as easy as not calling your mother on Sundays, or telling me you hate Kanye’s new album. Just give me an incentive to hate the person you’ve become. Give me a reason that we can’t be together, so I can tattoo “expired” over the memory of you.

Listen, I care about you, still. And something needs to be done about it. I hope you can understand. Let’s make it easier this time: let’s make it not me, but you. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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