I don’t know why I hate sleeping. I know I’m over dramatic and I can’t believe I called you last night and you knew it was me. Actually, I can believe that, pretty easily. I guess you know me well. Or maybe everyone knows that a blocked call is usually from me, being a drunk asshole. Today was weird, and as usual, I thought about you…a lot. I hate thinking about you so much. I don’t know why I do, I learned today that I pretty much over exaggerate everything in my life that I choose to complain about. Like you, for example. That’s why I resort to posting things like this on this website. You’re never going to see this, my friends are never going to see this, and I’m never going to have to answer to anyone about this so I’m just going to go ahead and go over what I wish I could say to you. I always say the same thing. I’ve felt the same way about you since all of this ended, and you got what you’d always wanted back.
I’m sorry I still get wasted on occasion and think it might be a good idea to call you from a blocked number. I’m sorry you probably get really agitated with me. I can only imagine how annoying I must be.
I wonder a lot if you’re happy. And what you’ve been doing with your life. And how madly in love you must be with the child that you call your girlfriend. You’re pathetic, still, for going back to her. I hope you know that. I hope people judge you constantly, even if it’s silently, about the fact that you’re technically statutory raping a mother fucking stupid little girl every day. I hate you for that. I will always resent you for the pain you’ve caused me to bring upon myself.
I despise the way you’ve managed to make me feel, and the stupid things that I’ve done as a result of being almost constantly saddened by your memory. I wish I never met you. It’s almost like I never did though, because we’re strangers. We’re not even almost strangers, we do not know each other anymore at all. You came and went from my life in what feels like a day. And disregarding the fact that I try to pretend you never existed, I still miss you every single day. It makes me mad that I am completely aware that you genuinely do not care about me. I hate you for that, too.
Maybe I’m being dramatic. Maybe I never did really love you, because I know you never really loved me. I hate you for telling me you loved me so many times. I absolutely hate you.
Maybe I’m just pissed off because I don’t have a guy in my life. Maybe I’m just dependent. Maybe another boy will come along and make me feel the way I guess you kind of made me feel. I don’t even remember really now. You made me happy though, for a while, I’ll give you that. I really shouldn’t judge my happiness with the presence of a stupid boy in my life, but I like to tell myself that at one point, that one point where I thought everything was okay, your role in my life had a lot to do with it.
Then again, maybe I’m just being overbearing and annoying and dramatic and weird and almost obsessive, but not quite.
I just miss you. I don’t know when I’m not going to miss you. Not knowing that hurts me. I don’t know who you are anymore, when I thought for a little while that you’d really never leave. I thought that because of all the shit you had put me through since we started this mess, that once I finally had you all to myself, you’d stay there, and you wouldn’t go back to who you had before me. I was always worried about that happening, even when we were all right, and I was right, and it still surprised me.
I can’t believe all of the things you lied to me about. I feel so stupid. I feel even worse because I’ve made myself a wreck over you since March. Or April, whenever the last time we really hung out was.
But I’m sorry. I wish we could be friends, or something, and talk on some type of regular basis, but I know that won’t happen. And I’ll move on, or something. I’ll find someone else, while you’re just fucking happy as hell with your stupid, pathetic excuse for a girlfriend.
I hope you’re happy.
I hate everything you’ve done. I miss you every single day. I hope you still think about me in a few good ways. I hope you still think about me in general. Even if it’s once a month. I hope certain things, random things, may remind you of me.
I miss you so much.
A part of me still can’t really wrap my mind around the short amount of time all of this has happened. I wish it was different. I wish everything would have turned out differently every day.
I’m sorry, I’m being pathetic, as usual, and God damn it, I just miss you. I wish you were here.