The letter I wrote for you

There are some days that I don’t think about you. Those are the best days. The days that I don’t need that drink to forget. Then there are those days, rainy days, and I think of you the most. I think about the time we went to different places and just sat in the car or go for walks in the park. Almost everything connects to you. I know I said once before, in a poem no less that you’re a ghost to me. But you haunt me even in my dreams. Do ghosts do that? Or only you? I don’t know honestly. But it’s a blessing most days because I smile, I don’t want to hate myself for it, but I do. And I’ll tell you what, it’s the price I’ll pay everyday if I get even the smallest nugget from a memory with you, false or not. What I felt was real. What you wanted was a test drive with no mileage and that’s perfectly fine. I gotta do this for me. You might not care but oh well. What I think of most of all, what was most important, our friendship. Those were the best memories. I know I screwed it up, but I had to get my feelings out or else it would have ruined the friendship all together. But If I had to do it over again, I would. Because I got to know you, for that small amount of time, and that’s quite alright with me, I hope you’re doing all that you’ve ever wanted and that you’ve found what you’ve always been looking for, and that if you’re seeing someone that they’re doing it right. That they are treating you like the queen that you are. I wasn’t ready as much as I thought I was, the past trauma, personal stuff to work through still, and I am, in my own twisted way. I won’t ever send this but I thought I’d write it. It might not ever get to you, or maybe it will. Maybe this will go farther than a post or a page. Maybe it might help someone else, someday. To let them know that they aren’t alone. That there is someone else, playing old memories while listening to their heart break song. Looking back and both loving and hating those days. Or maybe it will always be me, sitting in my car, wishing so hard, for the chance to see you again. Wherever you are, just know this, you will always be in my heart, even if it’s still in your pocket. Crumpled up like a old used tissue that you forget to throw away. I sometimes wish you would. It sounds dark and cold, but it’s the only part of me that I don’t have anymore. The part that made me happy, free and looking for a good time in the simplest of activities. This version honestly sucks, and I can’t blame no one but me, myself for thinking that opening up to you, breaking down these walls would make a difference. Obviously it did nothing, for either of us. You went looking for that spark, or maybe attention elsewhere. You didn’t leave when I tried to make it easy for the both of us, I gave you that out, a peaceful break. Instead you waited until it was my birthday. You waited until I was at my worst, and looking to you for a shred of happiness. You took that little, last part of my heart, as I dragged the words out of you, ask you if we were done. If our chapter was ending. Your timing, your mindset, your words and your actions sending me down a dark hole, making life to be a chore. Getting out of bed every morning to be difficult, and debating if it should even happen, but now? Now I get out of bed each day, living it to the fullest. Still looking for the best in others. From time to time I still question their intentions, but at the same time, like everything else in life, I take it with a grain of salt. I let things fall into place naturally. I couldn’t be more happier. I wish the same for you. And I will always be here, not waiting, but just in case you need an ear, or you’re down on your luck, but I wish you the best. As all I can do is move on, but not with you.