You’re the one I want to be with when I don’t want to talk to anyone. You’re the one I think of when I’m proud of myself. You’re my friend. The one with an ego, the one that broke my heart, but the one who might’ve loved me. Altruism lacing your intentions making actions hard to explain. You’re who I’m writing for because I can only think about myself so much. You know the way the light from a sunset comes in through windows in shadowed patterns from the trees, and seems to outline everything? I am dark, but with you, my sunset, radiating the outline of my body through orange and yellow light I am okay with just being okay for now. I love my darkness a little more. I am whole. Missing someone is selfless. This is not. I don’t miss who you are; I miss who I am with you. I miss how you see me, who you hold me accountable for being. That’s all this obsession is. Selfishness crowded by desolate loneliness and mediocrity found in everyone else. You make me want to be better, and that’s all I didn’t and don’t want to lose. I was so much to you. I was a person worth not abandoning, and if I’m not anymore then who am I? Someone worth living without. Someone worth not caring about. You put me on a pedestal too you know… Being pushed gave me a reason to stay, being pushed gave you a reason to run away back to who you were without me. Someone who doesn’t care who they hurt and how they hurt people. How they hurt me. How you hurt me.
I don’t want things to be this way.
I know some sick part of you doesn’t want me to move on, otherwise you would’ve given me what I want.