I saw the Moxley shirt you bought for me today, and I couldn't help but wonder how you are and, if I were to call, if you would even pick up the phone…
I still think about that time I stupidly walked away without a word. All because of a girl no longer around.
We were supposed to have a lot of firsts together, you and I. But we never did, did we? All our late nights on the phone, eagerly telling each other every little detail of our day, never leaving a thing out. Good morning and good night texts meant we were always each other's first and last thoughts for the day. You were more than my best friend, and I thought I was more than just yours. But that all changed in an instant when you met her.
I didn't think you would be so quick to swap me for her, but you proved me wrong. You fell asleep to her calls. Told her all about your day and exactly how you took your tea. You used to drink it daily... I wonder if you still do. But you even swapped your feelings for me to give to her. I felt like nothing more than a placeholder, a seat warmer for those not yet arrived at the show. You were there, and then you were hers. And I was cast aside long before I stopped talking.
That night I found out that she took your last first, I died inside. What was the point of learning about you, about us, if someone else could so easily cut in and take my place? Why was your love for me so easily removed when she walked in?
So I left, closed the door on what I thought was you and me. But I regret it every fucking day. If I had a time machine, the first place I would go would be back to that morning I left you on read. I would scream, yell, kick, whatever it took to make my past, dumb self respond. I was hurting over your ability to replace me so quickly, so I took it out on you the only way I knew how—silence. But I thought you would also care enough to talk to me one more time. Try one more message. All it took, though, was one message not responded to for you to be done with me completely.
I tried to fix it, so many times did I try to fucking fix the biggest mistake of my life, but every time you gave me the same response, I gave you—silence. Were your feelings for me so fleeting that you really have nothing left to say? Don't you have questions? Don't you need answers? Don't you miss your best friend? Because I do. I miss you every day, and I miss you so much, it hurts to breathe. I have spent these years apart trying to find someone, anyone, who could make me feel a fraction of how you made me feel, but none of them compare to you.
Tell me you hate me, tell me good-bye, tell me to never message again, but please just tell me anything, even if it's not what I want to hear, because I need to hear anything from you but overwhelming silence.
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Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash