I can type the URL to your blog faster than I can recall my own name and at first it was because I was desperate to find any trace of you that still wanted me, because oh god, did I still need you. But after a while, I didn't stop being sad but I stopped obsessing so much and I just wanted to see how you were doing and sometimes I wondered if you still thought of me. Not in the way that we used to think of each other, I know those days are long over, but the way you think of somebody when you listen to an upbeat song about how much you hate your ex for hurting you so badly. Because I know I hurt you and don't you dare think that you didn't hurt me too, but the wave of relief that came when I saw you blogging about how you hated me so much seemed to wash the desperation off of me that always seemed to cling like grass stains that faded but never quite came out even if I scrubbed until my hands were raw and shaking like the way I was about an hour after I had mustered up the courage to leave you. Then came the pictures, posted happily on your blog like she was the new paint, meant to cover up the chipped mess that remained of me. She may have stolen your heart, but I still have your virginity, its thrown into the back of my closet along with those pairs of shoes that seem like such a good idea to buy, until you realize that they're not the most well built, reliable things, and you really need to stop manic shopping and buying things on impulse. I haven't seen you since what would have been our two year anniversary and honestly I'm glad I haven't, because not a day goes by where I regret hitting you in your face with a baseball bat. But that's a story for another day. Now when I stumble upon your blog, its because i can't figure out how to block people from my account just yet and I don't miss you. When I see that you clearly have a new love interest, I don't miss you. When I wear the dress you bought me for my birthday, I don't miss you. When I listen to what was our song, I want to punch myself in the face for letting you ruin such a good Beatles song for me, but I don't miss you. And when I inevitably run into you again at future shows, I will not miss you.