Another night of self-loathing

Everytime I feel the urge to talk to you I remind myself of how shattered I was when you left me. I remind myself how fucking betrayed I felt when I found out that the Next Girl was Her. I remind myself of how happy you were with your New New Girlfriend and that our love will never compare to what you guys had. I remind myself that you’ll be fine without me. I remind myself how I feel so desperate everytime I want to repair the bridge that I burned down and I feel that you’re just like “Oh, hey. You’re still alive?”

I refuse to remember how you told me that even when we’ve got lives of our own, we’ll still have something between us. I refuse to remember how grateful I was when you were just there for me when I suddenly broke down because of my family problems.

I want to tell you how worried I am and concerned and disappointed. But let’s be honest, even if we’re now back to being civil to each other, I’m in no position to say anything of that sort. I will never be again the-friend-that-can-say anything-to-you. I made sure of that two years ago.

I kind of hate myself right now.

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