It’s been two years, two whole years since you left me, yet somehow it still feels like yesterday. I know, I know, I’m crazy for still caring, for still missing, for still hurting. You’re living in this world doing big things without me, we are strangers now. Unfriended or blocked on everything, but I still catch myself checking up. Why? Why am I the one left hurting? I packed up my entire life and moved a state away in hopes for a fresh start with new people, but nothing can take away from me missing you. Maybe it’s from the lack of closure, maybe it was from the fake love, maybe it’s because you broke me so badly that no one else wants me.. hell I don’t even want me.
Sometimes I’m angry, why was I so stupid? I let you control every aspect of my life, push away my friends. I let you physically, mentally and sexually abuse me for almost 2 full years, but I was so blinded by you. I continued to tell myself “this is love”, and I look back on it today and it makes me sick. But in your story, the story you tell the world I’m the villain. Yet here I am, still fucking missing you. Praying for the day you come back around. Wishing you nothing but the best. When in reality I should hate you.
You know, it’s crazy I still find myself crying over you, or looking through old pictures and trying to figure out where it all went wrong. I know you coming back won’t heal me, because I can’t heal with the person that broke me. But I would give anything for one more touch, one more laugh with you. Because that, that small moment with you would make the make feel whole again, even if it is just for a second…