just tired. Maybe all three.It’s been a year. I thought I was past this. I thought I was past him. But there it was, his name lighting up my screen, dragging everything back up. The good stuff. The awful stuff. The version of myself I became when I was with him, the one I swore I’d never go back to.
He says he’s changed. That he misses me. That he thinks about me all the time. And I hate how my brain tries to run a highlight reel of every cute moment we ever had, skipping over all the times I felt like I was losing myself. I hate how I can’t just delete the text and go back to my life.
Part of me wants to meet up, just to see if he’s different. Another part of me knows I’d just be feeding an old wound. He always had a way of saying the right things, making me question myself, making me think maybe it wasn’t all that bad. But it was. I know it was.
I keep thinking I should
just block him, but I haven’t. I guess that’s the worst part, realizing I’m still not over it, no matter how much I pretend I am.
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