I will miss you until I don't anymore.

It's been a month. Doesn't feel like it though. Seems like there's a timer measuring the amount of time I am taking to get over you, but I can never get a step closer. I love you today, just as much as I loved you yesterday, just as much as I had loved you a year ago.

Sometimes I laugh over the way we ended and how bizarre it is. It's not normal, it's out of character, it's ironic. But then I remember, it's real. What have you done to me? I don't think you realize just how much you've fucked me over with this one move. There are people who are so nice to me, yet I cannot feel anything but guilt towards you if I reciprocate, if I so much as acknowledge how they feel about me. I stare at your text messages everyday, willing myself not to reply to you, to just ignore you and maybe you'll leave me alone. But I know that if you stop religiously texting me one day, I will crumble, because then it will hit me that we're over, over.



I wish it never happened. I wish I could be happy with you, instead of being happy alone. I wish, I wish. I wish.