I don't want to be fun at parties. Outgoing and crazy. The girl who can tell a dirty joke. I want someone who will love me for all of me. When I am boring and lazy. When I am chubby and a little sad.

I don't want to have to be half of me all the time.

I don't want someone who I kinda like who thinks I am kind fun. I don't want pure distraction that never pans out to anything good. I just want one person who wants to be with me. Who misses me when I am gone and tells me things that have bothered him. Who wants to share with me things he doesn't share with anyone else. One person who thinks of me when things make him smile. One person who knows who I am and is ok with it.

No one has ever been ok with it. I thought they were. But they weren't. No one wants the whole package.

I want real company and caring. I want my heart to quit this silly palpitation it does. I just want to not be alone in this.

Jesus tapdancing christ I feel small now. And super jealous. And like I never even happened. Look at you go. Look at you two go. Amazing what you can achieve when you don't care who you crush to get there. :) And forget about it right away. And build a business and a perfect life together.

The more I look back. You WERE ashamed to be with me. You never felt proud of me like this. You never wanted to shout it. Make infographics of it.

The worst part is, at this point, I feel like this only confirms my suspicions about myself that I have had for so long anyway. I am not special. Or interesting enough. The people and things that I love and am interested it, will never reciprocate on me. I am not good enough to be who I want to be.

I am just a wanna be who can't contribute anything of worth to the people I want to be around, to the community of thoughts and ideas and creativity that I desire. I am terribly ordinary. So ordinary I fit in no where.

I don't know why I did this. Any of it.

I didn't mean anything by it. I just... I miss it so much.

Today is the worst in a while. Just an unlikely confluence of thread-thin shards of a hundred different breaks.

Right now is low.

Thank God for Chris Gilmore, if he ever reads this.

Some days it feels like I am supposed to not care. Most days, really. And most days I don't. I have a life: full and overgrown around the void that you left. It used to be that my LIFE missed you. Wasn’t whole or hardly functional without some sort of you in it. You would laugh at that. Bc you never felt it. Bc I never was that for you. And not even bc I meant less, only bc you had several me’s. We were on rotation, whoever was (is) convenient, handy…easy (swallowed your line of self-serving bullshit, cough cough.)

But truth be told, even now that my LIFE doesn’t miss you (what kind of life would really function LESS after the removal of a dead weight, an evil burden, a true albatross!?), I miss you. The me part. The whole person, with feelings and memories. I miss you crouching down to surprise me even though YOU rang my bell. Popping up all crooked smile and shaggy hair. I miss that joy (it wasn’t just on my face). The PERSON in me, despite the intelligence, misses you so bad, because I can’t find anything even kind of like it again.

That person feels so hurt that you don’t care that we are totally separate now. That you didn’t say anything when I said goodbye. That the bond we had (we had one, right?) meant so little to you, that it makes perfect sense that my absence doesn’t hurt, because it had been filled before it existed. That person hurts. Not every day (most) and not a LOT (a lot), because even when I am not thinking about you for days, weeks…I am.

That feeling will never come again for me.

Every time I approach or even recall that feeling, it will be attended by a shadow of you. Some sad or angry remembrance. A comparison. No way around it, there is no good without the bad, and what better and worse than a happiness...ruined by treachery? I will never be so happy again, and never recall a happiness without the sting of your betrayals. All my happinesses forever will smart with your careless, selfish ways.

Is it really just that she is thin, and small and virginal? Seems like a stretch. And at the same time, seems like the only truth. Like there were tiny markers when I was with you that you were never really ok with me. You had “never been with” a “girl like me” all those curves, you were “freaked out” when I slept with you. What were YOU trying to prove about YOU by being with someone? Me OR her. Both made issues of who YOU were, how GOOD you were (or weren’t), how MANLY (or not).

How could you have used me like that? I Loved You So.