It's not that I want to miss you. It's that I have to miss you .I have to linger on the smell of your cologne. I have to think about how it feels to have you touch me. I have to remember what it's like to have you look at me that way. It has nothing to be with being strong. Or being independent. It's the only way I can do this. The only way I can go on. If I tell myself that missing you is good. But, it's not. It's hell. I'm living in my own personal hell. And no ones here to help me through it. Not you. You're gone. Off exploring the world with your buddies. Making millions of girls happy. But did you even stop to think if I was happy? Are you making ME happy? Selfish. I know. Extremely.
I don't like missing you. I have to miss you. It's the only way to survive. I thrive on knowing that I wont have to linger on the smell of your cologne when this is all over. I thrive on not having to think what it feels like for you to touch me. I THRIVE on not having to remember what it's like to have you look at me like that. I'm tired of 'remembering'. I want to experience. I want this all to end. For you to be nobody. For you to be MINE again. Not the worlds. But mine. I want you to be here all the time. Not just when it's convenient with your schedule. Selfish, I know. Extremely.
I remember what it was like back in the old days. When you fulfilling your dreams was just a fantasy. A fantasy that I actually wanted to come true. I was so naïve then. How could I not have realized that this was going to tear us apart? That this would eventually be the end of us. Was I so gung-ho into this that I never realized how it would affect me? I only wanted you to be happy. And you are. You are happy out there. Without me. What I would give to take it all away from you. Selfish, I know. Extremely.
Maybe I don't deserve you. It took me four years to figure this out. Four extremely lonely years. I can't go on like this anymore. Without you. I love you too much to be with you right now. It doesn't make sense. Not even to me. But someday, I know that it will. I'll still miss you. No matter how much I tell myself that I won't. I will. I'm losing a part of me. A part that's never there. A part that I miss. A part that I will never have again. A part that you've stolen from me. A part for you to remember me by. Remember my perfume. Remember my touch. Remember my look. Remember ME. You owe that to me. Selfish, I know. Extremely.
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