I miss you so much sometimes. And that shit drives me insane. You didn’t choose me, so why should I give a fuck about you. The irony is I’m friends with her now. I wish I didn’t like her but I do. And the guilt I feel in her presence eats at me. Every time she talks about you I feel a pang in my chest. But I shouldn’t miss you at all. You hurt me more than you know and as much as I want to believe you’ll be there for me, I don’t. When everything happened, somehow I thought of you. On the worst day of my life, I thought of you, and how much I wished you were by my side. But you weren’t, and you never will be. I don’t think you even knew how much you meant to me, but it doesn’t matter now. I don’t even care to know if you ever felt the same. I just need to stop missing you.