One day, you told me that you've read everything I've written about you and I didn't know whether or not that was a good thing. You said that I contradicted myself a lot, I would write about being over you and soon after I would write about missing you. You said that I wrote things about never speaking to you again but I would answer your call the very next day. It didn't make any sense hearing it out loud, I know that now. I write what I feel in that moment and what I feel usually never makes sense.
It comes in waves. Missing you, hating you, forgetting you, thinking that I'm over you. It's different every day. Maybe that isn't something that you can understand because you've always only felt one way about me.
To you, I am just an option. Someone you call when you get bored or lonely. Someone you spend time with when no one else is around. But, to me, you're the opposite. You're the only one I want to call, after a long night or in the middle of the day. I shouldn't want you because you don't deserve me. I don't want to be just another option to you when you are always my first choice. Do you know what that feels like? To put someone first who always puts you last? It feels like you're constantly the loser, the runner-up. Yet, you will never deny the pity trophy because who doesn't like feeling just a little bit special? Everyone wants to feel special.
We long to be wanted, needed. When I see your name on my phone I don't hesitate to answer it because I know although you might not always want me, you do in that moment. And that has to mean something, right? Why do I think like that? Why do I think that it's okay to keep letting you in when you knock, yet when I knock you never answer the door? You make me believe that all of this means something, or at least it will one day. But it never has and it never will.
I don't want to contradict myself anymore. I want to be done with you. I want to ignore you when you call after not hearing from you for almost a year. I want to stop texting you when I have had too much to drink. I want to stop reaching out to see you when I'm home for a few days. I don't want you to be my first choice anymore.
I wish that it was easy. Forgetting you, I mean. I wish that I would just wake up one morning with a mind that was unaware of your existence. But life doesn't work in simple ways, we aren't just handed what we want because we want it. So until then, I'll probably continue to text you when I've had a little more to drink than usual and I'll probably pick up the phone if you call. But I don't want to.
Hopefully one of these days I will listen to my own words and I'll start actually moving on. I want to be able to write a goodbye and mean it. I'm sorry to the people who read my words, I'm sorry that I don't always stay true to the advice that I'm constantly preaching.
If you're reading this, which I am assuming one day you will, I'm sorry for always writing about you. I know it must feel like I'm suffocating you with these words but I'm not writing them for you, I'm writing them for me. I am trying to change. I'm done being just an option when you've always been my first choice, and this time I think I really mean that.
