What you make me think about.
I wish you knew how much I would punish myself before you hurt me. I wish I knew how much pain it would all be. For me to say I knew better would be a lie.
What I did was for the better. Just not the better outcome.
I think about you sometimes. In fleeting moments. Sometimes when I'm hoping life is good for you. A sort of bittersweet.
I wonder how I would feel if you find that person I hoped to be. For a long time, the idea of a door closing sounded unbearable.
I guess that just means I've been holding onto an imagined something. A metaphysical attachment to you.
No one tells you how hard it is to wash away a mark left by people you encounter in your life. It feels impossible at times. It's this repetitive thing. Like OCD minus the comfort of aligned.
I think moving on is realizing that perhaps, you weren't really washing them away. You were learning to live with it.
I'm going to move past you. I keep waiting for you to realize that its been me this entire time, but it's honestly sad how much I seek your validation.
You are just like everyone else. I have been giving you exceptions. No more. I love you as much as I love a stranger. I love you as much as I would care for someone who is sad, hurting, and alone. That's truly more than enough love.
Farewell.