I am happy for you. I’m so happy that you’re going on an adventure this summer, leaving everyone behind and going across the world. For months. For 60 days. That’s a lot of days. I love seeing you this excited. You’re going to see so many concerts, have so many drinks, meet so many girls. I’m so happy that you love your job, and you’re keeping busy. Too busy to remember me. That’s ok though, because you’re happy now.
If I keep telling myself that stuff, maybe it will become true. If I stop looking at your Facebook with all your statuses about your trip and your awesome life, maybe I’ll stop feeling like shit about this. If I stop talking to this “new you”, maybe the fact that you never talk to me will eventually hurt less.
A couple weeks ago, I was dreading the day you leave. Christ, I get a lump in my throat even thinking about it now. That doesn’t even make sense, I know. Because it’s not like you’re around these days anyway. But I guess I still am so attached to the person I used to know. The person that loved me and was loved in return six months ago.
Now you’re back. Back being a relative term, of course. No more “love”, not even a “like” from you. You’re an acquaintance now. The person I love is the one I used to know. Yet I still dread the day you leave.
Then I came up with my solution. I’m going to let go before then. I’m not sure when, maybe tomorrow. Maybe the night you leave. I’m so tired of staying strong, and have no reason to be here any more. I can’t handle the pain your departure is going to inflict on me. I have so much to begin with. I can’t handle this constant rejection. I’m a needy and useless person, and have come to terms with that. My time is coming soon. My time for peace.
You won’t find out before your trip, I’m sure. I promise I won’t ruin it for you. You can know when you come back. Be safe buddy. Have the time of your life. I still love you, you know.