I still think about you

At times, I still think about him.
It only takes a word. Or a smell. Or a pattern. Or a paint brush.

There are times where I just want to ask him why he didn’t love me. Did I move too fast? Was it guilt? Was it the chase? Is that what you wanted?
But I also wouldn’t dare to ask. I don’t want to hear that answer again. Not a second time.

When I fantasize at night, I think of the times where he would pat me on the back… to help with the crying. I’m embarrassed at how many times I cried. I know it confused him too. He was probably wondering if it was him that I was crying about or if it was about my parents. I was a hot mess. I wasn’t ready to date in the first place.

It’s funny to see how far I’ve come, but the memory of him has a chokehold on me. I’m sure he still thinks about that time once or twice, but he doesn’t know that the memory of him perpetually crashes into my mind like an unstoppable wave. It comes and goes, but when it comes, it comes crashing.

I always say this, but I wonder if we’ll ever talk again. And if we do, what would it be like? I don’t know if I’ll have anything to say, but will want to say everything. Will I walk away feeling like I had one more thing that I wanted to get off my chest? Will you feel a familiar craving to hold me again? Or will we both feel a thick barrier between us?

I want him to know that I moved because his closeness was suffocating me. I don’t want to say that I made a decision just because of him, but to be real, he was a big reason.
I think about him a lot. For a year, I forgot about him and I was happy about it. I’m still happy about where I’m at now, but I think my brain is starting to analyze the things that have happened.

The scenes are a supercut in my head. I can project them and it plays in clips. I can even watch different scenarios of what would play out if I acted differently. It all ends with a dumpster fire, though.

There are so many dreams of you. I write down a lot of them. I draw some. Some of them stick with me for more than a week at a time. Most of them are of us meeting again. It’s one of my greatest fears. And yet, some of them are of how you were missing me too.

You made a big impression on me. It’s chiseled into my brain and it hurt. In the end, we had to completely cancel each other out of our lives.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to accept the person that he’s proven to be. But I think I will always reminisce and care for the guy that I thought I fell in love with.