I Hate That You Still Linger On My Mind

Photo by  Brooke Cagle  on  Unsplash

Photo by Brooke Cagle on Unsplash

I went out with someone new last night. He was nice, he made me laugh, he was someone who shared the same interests as me, someone who could potentially be really good for me – but he wasn't you. 

I didn't think about you while I was with him though, which is a good thing. Your memory patiently waited in the back of my mind until after we said our goodbyes and I was on my way home. 

Part of me hates myself for letting you crawl back into my brain. Part of me hates that I ever allowed you to get that close to me to the point where you distract me from what I'm doing. Part of me hates that I still wish I could call you and talk to you. Part of me still hates that I want nothing more than to walk in your front door and hear you say my name.

I hate that you still linger on my mind like a stench I can't get rid of. 

I hate that I allowed myself to fall into your trap, to romanticize what we had. I hate that part of me thought that maybe you would stay when I should have known from the start you had no intentions of sticking around, and no intentions of being loyal to me. I hate that part of me still wants you around even after all the shit you put me through. 

I hate that I went out with someone who could be good for me, who seemed like he could actually care about me and all I'm thinking about is you.

I hate that I let you treat me like shit and that I still feel like I'm incapable of hating you. I hate that I don't have that disgusted taste in my mouth that all my friends feel when I mention your name. 

I hate that I still wake up in the middle of the night hoping to see your name lighting up my phone.

I hate that after everything I did for you I'm still blaming myself for the way you treated me, for the way you couldn't love me.

I find myself repeatedly typing "Why wasn't I enough?" on the blank line under your name.

But I won't send it.

I won't send it because I know it's not me. I'm done blaming myself because I know I didn't do anything wrong. I know I could have loved you with all I had in my heart and you still wouldn't choose me. I know that's not on me. That's on you. That's your own shit you have to deal with. 

All texting you would do is hurt me more. I'd analyze your response and start questioning things. Your name lighting up my phone would do me in and I'd immediately crave more from you. I know I shouldn't even start, I know I just need to keep distancing myself further from your touch, your words, your voice and I'm doing the best I can but my god – how I miss you.

How pathetic I sound as thoughts of you are spilling out of me all over my keyboard while you've already moved on because you never even cared that much in the first place. How pathetic of me to be romanticizing what we had in black and white. How pathetic of me to care this much about someone who cared so little.   

I miss you but you're no good for me. I miss you but I can't go back, no matter how much I want to.  I won't go back. 

I know you're toxic and your touch just drags me down even further. 

I went out with someone new last night and I hate myself for hating that it wasn't you.