I’m crashing out, spiraling bad. Every time I think I’m okay, doing better, I fall. I thought I would be okay with accepting that you were taking a break from social media. Then you unfollowed me. Then blocked. I thought I was okay until I decided to tell you I would kill myself. I thought I was okay when I had you blocked but then I realized I couldn’t. After all, what if you decided one day you wanted me again? Then I sent you an apology, and I said oh good, closure, I’m okay now regardless of if you respond. But when you didn’t, I couldn’t focus on anything else. I keep checking my burner account on the off chance I see the moment that you open the message, the moment you type something, anything. But I don’t want to accept the very real possibility that you’ll never even see it. I don’t understand how I became so attached to you so quickly. So bad, that frankly, I feel like I am in love with you, because I am completely, utterly obsessed with you. Maybe it’s because we messaged each other nearly every moment of every day? Was it the good morning and good night texts? Was it the compliments, the selfies, how much we had in common? Or was it simply that I hadn’t received that kind of attention and affection in years?
Finally downloading my data and realizing our conversations, none of them, were in my files, I was shattered. I am broken. This was my last effort to relive the moment I realized our similarities, my last effort to hear you and see you again. My last effort to relive how you made me feel. I regret to my very core deleting our messages, even though I lived up to my promise. I wonder if you deleted them like you said?
I wonder when I’ll stop thinking of you. It feels like a part of me died. In fact, it feels like I died entirely. I wish I complimented you more, the way you did to me.
I wish I never flirted back.
I wish I never told you I wanted to hear you like that.
I wish I never woke up in the middle of the night and told you what I wanted you to do to me.
I wish.
I would do anything to read your messages again. Anything, anything. I miss you so much that I want to cut myself. I want to bleed your name onto my sheets. I need you so bad, so obsessively, horrendously bad, that if I wasn’t tied down here I would fly to you and scour San Antonio for just a glimpse of you. I need you so bad. So bad.
I swear that I search your name at least twenty times a day in hopes that I’ll see that I’m not blocked anymore. But of course I am. I probably always will be. Maybe I’ll look through phone books for your name. Maybe I’ll be your stalker, when I don’t even know your family name or the name of your college. I know your major, that’s gotta narrow it down right? Maybe I could email your professors. Maybe I’ll looks through whitepages for REDACTED FOR TUMBLR Maybe I’ll kill myself if I never find you.
