Sometimes it’s not watching her  walk away that hurts; sometimes, it’s realizing that you can’t do anything to stop her. It’s realizing that you loved her more than she ever loved you. It’s realizing that there’s another girl she loves and it’s not you and it’s not going to ever be you. And you have to realize this before you kill yourself running after something that doesn’t exist, because there’s nothing lonelier than reaching for someone who already has their arms around someone else. Sometimes you have to let her go, and sometimes it’s the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do. 

You know, I was doing well and then one thing hit and after that I can barely lift my head up from everything thats crashed down onto me. 

And half of it is because of you. 

After you left, I hid my feelings so well that I even forgot I felt them. I used forgetting as a way to heal, I forgot to feel the emotions that come after a breakup and I was doing so well because of that. 

But now I’m remembering. And since I’ve started I can’t stop. I remember being there the first time our hands intertwined and I remember the way it felt to be so close to you and I remember every single phone call that we had. And all that may sound nice, because it did make me smile, it did make me laugh thinking about the things you’d say but then it just hurt because you’re not here. None of that is here anymore. 

You used to text me in all caps saying you loved me and now you don’t even look in my direction. You can’t even say hello anymore.. 

And it hurts, because now that I remember how it felt to be there, to have you, to love and be loved, I miss you. 

I miss you so damn much and I can’t breathe because suddenly I’m reminded of when you ended things and then the picture flashes through my mind of you with her. 

And now I can’t even get out of bed anymore because life hurts too damn much. 

Because I’m reminded of how people can wake up one day and decide that they don’t love you anymore and I’m so scared that everyone I have ever known will leave.

“Are you over her?” My friends ask me all the time. 

I take a deep breath before answering. “You can’t ask me that. I honesty don’t know. Some days the pain isn’t quite as bad, but then other days are pure hell without her. Some days I sob endlessly over her, while other days I hardly shed a tear.

I’m just a roller coaster full of emotions. I’m a paradox. I want her happy but sometimes I wish I was still the reason. I get upset that I still think about her, when I don’t even cross her mind. I want to scream at her for making me feel pathetic, I want to tell her I miss her more than she could ever imagine, I want to ask her why I was never good enough when I tried my hardest. I want to ask her how life is so easy without me. I want to scream at her for leaving me. I want to tell her to come back to me. I want to tell her to stop running away. That everything hurtful she has done is nothing compared to the heartache of not having her in my life anymore. And then I have days that I truly convince myself that I’m over her. When I convince myself that she lost me – a girl who loved her more than anything.”  I say as I try to smile at my friend asking me.  

“To be quite honest, I have no idea if I’m over her. Maybe I am … maybe I’m not. Who knows?”

There are days when I wish I didn’t meet you; that I never learnt your name; that I never got to feel what it felt like to be in your arms. But then I have days when I thank god for bringing me to you; even though we didn’t work out, I’m thankful I got to recall the colours of your eyes and touch your skin with mine. The thing is, you’re my greatest mistake and favourite memory at the same time; I hate you but I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you. You consume my thoughts and even though you broke my heart, I’m still waiting here for you to come back and mend it. 

if something suddenly happened,

a car wreck,


a fire,

a shooting,


an earthquake or a tornado 

and I was one of the few casualties… 

would you be okay with the last thing you said to me?



~A Brahma🔪 

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