I miss you so fucking much. I know this is all for the best — for us both. But I can’t help but check to see if your on my blog, or wonder if you still check it. If you still check your tag, even though I’m using a different one for you right now. I wonder if you think about me as much as I think about you, or if you’re thinking about her. I wonder what your blackouts are about, what it is that makes you so far in thought that you can’t even stand. I want I know what happened, what changed. I miss walking around Walmart with you just because you wanted to hang out. I miss hanging out with you so much. When you said you were no longer one for initiation, I wanted to become one for initiation. I wanted to start texting you first.
What I miss most of all is laying in your bed with you, watching YouTube or movies, touching your arm and tracing your tattoos, even just holding your hand.
I think about every moment we spent together, every time you looked at me or vise versa. I think about all of it every second of the day. I just hate when I think about the parts that involve her. It breaks my fucking heart. You broke my fucking heart. You destroyed me. You let me get comfortable, and as soon as I was you pushed me away. I let go of my trust issues, of most of my anxiety, and in return I got heartbreak. It hurts to know that things are worse. That if I ever find anyone I like half as much as I like you, it will take forever for me to be comfortable. Just like this time, I will take too long getting to that point that they will stop trying. They will stop wanting to be with me.