some facts

There is a thing I have been going through for months now, a thing I have been struggling with, and that is the fact that I am not over my last relationship.

This relationship didn't have a clear ending. Some shit went down, it was confusing and chaotic - and then suddenly he was gone. He moved away. And I understand his reasons and I support it, 100%.

But here I am, still down here in stupid LA, still holding all of the feelings I had for him. I keep waiting and waiting for them to fade and disappear, but they don't. And it is hell. And I am so tired of keeping it buried and secret. 

I walk home at night, with nothing but the stars and quiet streets for company, and I have hours and hours to remember. It was only a year and a half. Most of the time he was wildly unavailable. But then there were times that he wasn't - that he was right there next to me. And though I am trying to forget, I am not forgetting. 

When I forced him to, he told me to move on. But I am a storyteller, and I can tell myself any story I want to, like He doesn't really mean it. He's trying to do the right thing, not keeping you on the hook. But he doesn't really mean it. He doesn't really want you to move on. 

But I tried, because he said to. I tried because it's been six months since he's left and other than responding to me when I text him, he has had nothing to say to me. He hasn't reached out at all. So I tried to move on. And it was a joke, like the dumbest, cruelest joke ever. Because these two first dates I had weren't even the same species as him. They didn't have one tenth of his spark or his light, and all I saw when I looked at them was the lack of him. Not his smile. Not his laugh. Not his mind. Not his shoulders. Not his anything. 

So now it is exactly like I knew it would be, when, I don't know, a year or two ago I was writing about him and said I don't know how I'll ever get over him. I clearly remember writing that. And it's played out, just like that. It's the worst. He got under my skin and I'm never going to get him out. 

And I am just so, so tired of punishing myself for feeling this way. I am so tired of feeling like it is wrong or bad to still care about someone. I don't care who knows. I don't care if he knows. 

In fact, I told him the other day. I sent him a dumb joke and I didn't even think he'd respond, but I knew it would make him smile. And I knew exactly which smile it would be, and how my sending him a dumb joke would make him feel - and that was enough. I didn't need anything back.

But then he did reply, and before I knew it I was telling him that I'm not over him, just like that, just deadass, straight out. And do you know what? It felt really good. It felt really fucking good to just say it. Like, massively relieving. Because what the fuck. Why not. He has literally moved away and set up house in another state. There is nothing left for me to lose.

And we went a few rounds because he doesn't believe me, because per his direction, I tried to move on. So, LOL. Every last existing LOL on the planet. Because my god. So let me be real clear:

I am not over you, you idiot. Read it here, read it in your texts, read it in your heart. Drive down and read it on my face.

You made me feel alive in a way no one else ever has. And if I can't have you, I will wait until the right person comes along to finally shove you out of my head. 

And that's facts.