Things got too hectic, and irrationally unavoidable. Someone could not get me out of that room fast enough. You were overly there mentally, and you cared too much for all the wrong reasons. I’m sorry I wouldn’t let you use me for the way you intended. It ended up being that everything you wanted wasn’t anything the same. You told someone that I was a friends with benefits and then you act like you’re in love. It’s too much for me that you have no idea what I am to you. 

It was probably because I look great as a brunette, or the fact that I’m the “best thing that ever happened to you”. It’s maybe because you catered to my every whim.

But I figured out hours after that it wasn’t ever real for me to begin with. I wish it was. But the sad part is, you weren’t him. Never were, never will be. 

So time, time, time. What a funny thing. Because one would think that a good guy, and the right amount time would fix what was wrong. But it doesn’t. “Time heals all”, what a load of horseshit. It’s been six months. Just still not over him. I think back to the perfect times that were shared, and just miss them. A morning sunrise spent in a sleeping bag after our camping night was raided by MD sheriffs. Or the borrowed paddleboat on July 4th with floating lanterns the first weekend we met. 

I know, I know. I’ll stop.