I have accepted you are gone. We are never going to see each other again. I’m never going to look into your eyes and I’m never going to feel your lips press against mine and I’m never going to get butterflies because your name suddenly sprung onto my phone with some stupid joke attached.
You are no longer a piece of my world. You are only in the past. I know that.
There’s still a stupid little piece of me that thinks you are going to come back someday.
I have daydreams about running into you. About joking around the way we used to do. About flirting. About fucking. I feel like the universe is not finished with us yet, but that’s probably because I’m not finished with you yet and I want to place the blame elsewhere. I don’t want to admit I’m dumb enough to still have feelings for you after how much time has passed.
I know it’s stupid to still think about you, but I can’t help myself. You are hard to forget. You meant more to me than most people, even though you barely paid any attention to me. You left a mark on me that I’m unable to scrub clean.
I feel like our story needs a different ending. I feel like I have a million more things to say to you. I feel like, even though I say I have moved on from you, I would run back into your arms in a heartbeat.
I know it’s stupid to spend my spare time daydreaming about you. It’s stupid to wonder what you are doing and who you are with now. It’s stupid to care about you. It’s stupid to still like you.
Maybe you are still stuck on my mind because I never got closure. Maybe it’s because, ever since you decided to leave, I have had trouble finding someone else I connect with as strongly as you.
I would never admit this aloud, but I want you back. Even if it’s only as a friend. Even if you break my heart for a second time. I just want you in my world again. I want to hear your laugh again. I want to touch your skin again. I want as much of you as you are willing to give me.
I know I’m only fooling myself. I know the chances are slim you are going to decide to come back because you have probably forgotten all about me by now. You probably don’t think about me when it’s late at night the way I do with you. You probably don’t remember the cute little moments that happened between us. You probably don’t even think of me when someone says my name.
But a piece of me still thinks you are going to come back eventually, because the alternative is too hard to swallow. I don’t want to think about the possibility that I will never hear your voice again. I don’t want to believe this is really over.