I heard the other day that your brain registers heartbreak in the same way it registers physical pain. I’ve felt those pangs before, so it only made sense. But now, I feel them again because of you. When I leave myself be for a moment, there’s a heaviness in my chest. I forget sometimes that you’re the thing causing it. I miss you so much. But you gave up on me. You did. And it’s your loss… At least that’s what I have to keep telling myself to get through this. Even though I know it’s my loss too. It was your choice, and now these pangs belong to you. I know you’d hate to be the source of my tears, but the more I’m away from you the more this is true. You gave up on me. Again. I don’t think you know how painful that is. The person I loved, who I trusted and thought loved me, didn’t want to be with me, twice. That fucking stings, you know. And I know there’s no malice behind it, but when it comes down to it you just didn’t want to be with me, for a second time, even. And when I think of that, I can’t help but feel small. You always wanted me to feel beautiful, appreciated, and loved. And now I’m sitting here feeling none of those things. The truth is, these things I write are to distract myself from actually talking to you. But I know that’s probably not a difficult feat for you. It’s probably easy. You probably maybe sometimes still think of me. But I bet it doesn’t register as pangs in your chest, or pain in that part your brain. I bet it’s just a passing thought, of something that reminded you of me, and no feelings accompanied. I bet it you don’t think about talking to me as much anymore. I bet you’ve found girls to distract you or maybe you just don’t even need distractions like I do. I don’t know. I guess I don’t need to be making silly bets to myself. But I wonder what you’re thinking a lot. I try to imagine what you’re feeling or what you’re up to now that I don’t know anymore. I’ll never know anymore, I guess. But at least I didn’t give up on you. That fucking hurts.
