Written on 3/11/15

I wanted to hate you. I really felt like I needed to hate you. That you were the one to blame. That you were awful, and dark, and terrible, and hurtful, and a fuckin' son of a bitch that broke my heart in two thousand pieces. God, I wanted to hate you. But I couldn't.

I couldn't.

And now all I can think of is how you're still lingering in my memory, and how I think of you from time to time and it's all like: I know he's fine, I know he doesn't miss me, I know he's with her doin' his life and smilin', and god, I love that smile and the fact that he's happy now, but fuck, how I wish I was the source of that smile. I can't help it, I can't help to feel it. And I can't help to hate her a little too. Even though I know she's makin' you feel like you're the most fortunate man in the world. Even though she's adorable, and beautiful, and I bet she's amazing in so many different ways. And the fact is, that what hurts is that I'm not her. I'm not gonna be her. I'm me. Just me. And that's not changing, buddy.

So all I can say now,

well,

all I can write now,

in this screen where you ain't gonna read it,

it's that I wanted to hate you with all my rage and heart.

But instead,

I'm here,

in the same spot,

with the same fingers,

writing what I thought I wasn't gonna write anymore:

I wanted to hate you, but I couldn't. I loved you way too much. And that's not changin' either, buddy.

Crap.