i need you to understand that you didn’t make sense when you went from loving me, to hurting me, to wanting me; to be your firsts, to be yours, to forgetting i was ever that.
all in the span of a short-lived friendship. how am i supposed to wrap my mind around anything? around how distant you are now, and how nothing will make you want me?
how am i not supposed to reminisce, when everything that has happened was only a month ago? or two weeks ago, when you told me i was beautiful, and don’t you ever forget that, or when you spent a whole summer in europe texting me?
talking to me about the most mundane things, those are the conversations etched in my memory; those are the conversations i still don’t want to look at, because that is a low point i can’t ever reach.
you spent a whole summer in europe telling me you wish you could see me and saying the nicest things to me. i spent a summer rooted in my spot, waiting for you to see me, waiting to see you beautiful as always, but happy, nonetheless, that i got to talk to this sweet summer boy.
you talked to me like i was your girlfriend; don’t ever tell me that there wasn’t a point where we were almost that, because i thought: this is what good love must feel like, that comes easy and doesn’t destroy you.
then you did.
the easy answer is you’re just as broken as i am, and just as confused. that could also explain the girl who has swiftly replaced me.
but please be mindful of the hole you left in my life, because you were my good mornings, and goodnights, and afternoons when we weren’t too busy, and on the forefront of my mind when we were.
this is a bandaid ripped way too fast, and i still can’t reconcile the person i fell in love with over the summer, and the boy who won’t even look at me; the cold boy who has it in him to do awful things to me. you are not the same person, but even that doesn’t make it easy to fall out of love.
i am in love with someone who doesn’t exist except in my memories and texts. and if sweet, summer you isn't dead, i need you to never love me again because each time you stop i am left with even less. i'm starting to read again, and smile on days on which we don't talk, and getting here wasn’t easy; so i need us both to stop.