Your name doesn't cross my mouth like it used to. I don't check your social media as often as I did when everything first went down. And in all honesty, I don't think about you as much as I used to, but I'm still not over you.
I know it's been a while. The sun has risen and set, the trees have grown, the seasons have changed, and so have you and I. Our lives have gone in completely opposite directions. Most people probably don't even remember the days when you and I were anything more than the strangers we are now.
I haven't forgotten, though. I haven't forgotten the way it felt when you left. I still remember all the times I held my breath, thinking that you were going to return to me. I've gone over every single reason why you left in my head, and I haven't finished imagining the scenarios in which you don't leave because I finally did whatever it was that you wanted from me.
I keep thinking that one day you'll wake up and realize that your life isn't better without me in it. I keep holding out for you to come back to me. I know it will never happen. I know that you're happy in your life.
Don't get me wrong, I'm happy in my life, too. Things are going really great for me and I am happy. There's just something missing in my life. A little you-shaped hole that I keep trying to fill, but I keep figuring out that no one can replace who you were to me.
I know it's been a long time. Long enough for me to have gotten over this. Gotten over you. You probably never even think about me, and it's kind of embarrassing that my mind won't let go of you.
I'm still not over you. Maybe I never will be. I want to be. I pretend to be, but I'm not.