The Truth Is, I Still Think About You Often
I think about you often, and when I do, I feel a deep sense of sadness and simultaneous joy. I think about the betrayal, loss, and pain you’ve felt from past loves, and then, like clockwork, reminders of how you’ve made me feel the same way overwhelm me. I often wonder how one who knows so much pain could inflict the same on another, unprovoked and effortlessly so.
When I think about us and the better times we’ve shared, I’m reminded of how beautiful your soul can be. That’s the same soul I saw and fell for, the same soul mine still yearns for today. Anyway, I love how effortlessly kind and thoughtful you can be. Your thoughtfulness makes you one of the sweetest people I know, and how you show love is more impactful than the words “I love you” could ever be.
I know all this because I’ve seen how you are with other people. I feel envious at times because I hardly see that side of you. Not to complain, because I’m grateful for you and how good you are to me at times, I just wish the person others experience was the same one I get to experience. I hope that isn’t too much to ask for. I’ve considered that because I’m the closest person to you that I’d be the one who sees the best and worst of you all at once — which is expected, I guess. It would be nice to not see the worst of you more than your best and to feel safe with you rather than feeling like anything I say or do might make you an ogre.
You’re probably feeling attacked at this point; I know you. This isn’t it, I’m just telling you how I feel. When this happens verbally, I get backlash instead of reassurance. Criticism instead of support… Now that we’re not speaking, I’ve had time to think about things, and I might be wrong but I don’t think you feel anything for me. I’m “good energy” when I’m quiet, when you’re laid up between my thighs and not talking to me at all. You prefer me at a distance, no feelings, no depth. My “shell” is what appeals to you most, and that bothers me.
Why can’t you love me for all of me? Why settle for picking out one or two good things about me, choosing to focus on those and dismiss the rest? Why do you connect with me best when I’m silent? How is it that you feel better about me only when everything’s all about you? Why do you not care that you’ve hurt me?
I ask myself these questions often when I think of you. When I think of you often, I wonder why I stay. The answer is simple: I fell for the temporary parts of you that you’ve shared. I settled for breadcrumbs of wholesomeness, remnants of a good heart broken time and time again by past loves. I think about that often, and when I do, I pray for the heavens to heal you and for your happiness. I want you to be happy, and I want the best for you. I just don’t think that’s me. I don’t have enough to give you what you need to feel whole, and I’m struggling to come to terms with that.
So this time, instead of fighting for you, I’ll think about you — often.