Haunt Me No More

I'm tired.

I don't want this anymore. I made a mistake, and I want to just wake up tomorrow morning and forget everything that happened in the past three months. It's not that I regret anything. I don't. If things would only turn out differently, I'd do it all over again. But things did not happen the way I wanted them to. And because of that, I just wish I could so easily turn my back away from everything.

I turned away from him. The way I was supposed to. I did what I had to do. So why is it so hard to keep myself from looking back?

I so want to hear from him. See him. Talk to him. But no. If he wants to talk to me, he will reach out. That's how it should be. I will not impose myself upon someone who does not want me. I have no losses. He was never mine to lose.

I was his. And sometimes, at night, I still half-wonder if he realises that he lost me. Chances are slim.

I am not undesirable. I know who I am. I know what I am worth. Why he did not see this, I can only wonder. I scoff now, why am I deriding myself for the stupidity of someone who will never make me happy? No more of this nonsense. This melancholy.

It's so easy for me to say "No more of this," to say that "It's over." And I do mean it. I do. But time and time again, it comes back to haunt me. He haunts me. No. The idea of him haunts me.

He's just an idea.
He's just an idea.

And a very bad one he was--is--indeed.

I need a permanent fix to rid myself of his memory. I'm so sick of not caring one second, and then the next moment being flooded by intoxicating images of what has passed and never will be again.

Why I obsess over a wanker, I have no idea. But it has to end.

Now.

I've found the thought: That we'd never have worked regardless. There is comfort in that. Now if only to push all the awkward silence between us aside, clear the slate, and talk about it as it is--a fond memory, and nothing more.