Sometimes I just sit there, indulged in nostalgia, thinking about you. Thinking about how horrible it ended.

If this is even the end…

But would it make sense to get back at all? Why am I even jumping to those conclusions? We don’t even make eye contact. For almost three years my world revolved around you. In 2011, we spent every single day together. Until the last two months of it. How do two people share something so great and let it crumble just as easy? I don’t know. I think I’m torturing myself with the thought of you. 

Your smile. Your laugh. Your curly hair. Your glasses. Your hugs. The taste of your lips. The scars on your arms. The feel of your touch. Every aspect of you.

fuck.

Then I think of how bad you didn’t want me, how you lead me on. Or how when we were perfectly fine, I would cry sometimes simply just with the thought of one day you might not feel the same way. I know that sounds ridiculous. Maybe we’ll talk or meet again. Maybe we’ll be the greatest of friends. Maybe we won’t ever speak a single word to each other. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

I guess you just really had a hold on me.

It really is time for me to let go and move on. 

It’s a work in progress at the moment.