I deleted your number, you know. I deleted it because I knew I would do something stupid like this. Send you a message and pray that you would come up to me the next day and hug me like you used to and kiss my cheek. Like maybe I'd be able to feel your hair on my forehead again and you'd give me that "really" look like you did when you really wanted to just smile and laugh.
I see you doing that now. You seem happy. I just wish I was apart of it.
The roles have flipped, sunshine. You were my grip on sanity for the longest time. It's kind of ironic though; I was with you and you were miserable. Now you're free and I'm miserable.
I wake up every morning with my first thought being of you. My last thought before I go to bed is of you. I am still hopelessly in love with you and you want nothing to do with me. It kills me every time I see you smile, but it heals when I realize you're finally happy. My heart is so full of scar tissue I don't even know if it can function correctly anymore.
I wish you had broken up with me in person. Maybe it wouldn't hurt as much. My second thought of the day is how you texted me saying you didn't love me. I still cry myself to sleep most nights knowing that you don't care that you still have my heart.
I see you in every smile.
I see you in everything alive.
I see you in vibrant colors and in the freedom of the sky.
I hear you in laughter and every ******* song I loved.
I feel you in the softness of blankets and old baggy sweatshirts.
You were my life guard. I held onto you when there was nothing left for me to hold. I went 6 months not seeing my dad after you told me you didn't love me. We moved in the spring, leaving the only place where I truly felt at home. My mom is finally happy again with --- and almost oblivious to the fact that I'm drowning in an ocean because everything I love is being ripped apart.
I'm still barely hanging on, 6 months later. You took me with you when you kicked me out of your life. It screams for me every second of the day but I know I can't get close to you. If I do I know I'll hurt you. That's why I'm mindlessly typing this in a message to you I can't send. I can't let you know how I feel because I'll shatter your glass bubble.
The only friend I still talk to of both of ours is ---. It's almost always of you.
I miss you. I still love you. And I'm sorry for feeling this way still about you.
I told you you'd leave me and you said you never would. Well, I guess I win that bet.
God I miss you.