Today it still does
I wish I knew how to stop caring about someone who made it so clear they no longer wanted me in their life. I’ve tried to hate you. I’ve tried to convince myself you were cruel enough that losing you should feel easy. But grief doesn’t listen to logic, and neither does love once it’s rooted deep enough.
Every stupid little thing reminds me of you. I still catch myself wanting to tell you things before I remember I can’t.
I know I crossed lines trying to hold onto you. I know desperation is ugly when viewed from the outside. Maybe from the inside, too. There’s a difference between understanding something intellectually and emotionally surviving it.
You said you’d never be attracted to me again. You called me pathetic. Insane. Maybe you said it in anger. Maybe you meant every word. I replay them anyway. They echo louder at night.
What hurts most is that underneath all the chaos, I genuinely loved you. Not in the pretty movie way. In the raw, humiliating, human way. The kind where someone gains the ability to completely wreck your peace just by withdrawing theirs.
Yet still, despite everything, there’s a part of me that hopes someday you’ll remember me softly instead of angrily.
I don’t even know what I wanted from you anymore by the end. Closure? Kindness? Proof that I mattered at all? Maybe I just wanted the version of you that existed before everything became hostility and threats and silence.
I wish things had ended with compassion instead of damage.
I wish I had walked away sooner with my dignity intact.
I wish you knew that none of this came from malice. It came from attachment so deep it turned into panic when I realized I was losing you.
Maybe one day I’ll stop looking for you in every unfamiliar number and every almost-memory.
Maybe one day your name won’t feel like a bruise.
But today it still does.