I love her with all my heart. But I hate her for doing this to me. I love her for being honest about her feelings. But I hate her for not having those feelings. I hate myself for hating her. I hate myself for loving her.
Sometimes I think I’d be better off if I’d never looked at her a second time. It’s funny how that single act of going up to her and starting a conversation, has led me to where I am now. Sometimes I think I’d be better off if we’d never met, but then I wouldn’t have enjoyed the WONDERFUL time we spent together.
I deleted her number from my phone today. That was difficult, but it’ll stop me sending any drunk texts. And drunk is what I always seem to be lately (ironically I’m completely sober as I’m writing this). The amount of whiskey I’ve been drinking is inhuman, it’s a wonder I haven’t got alcohol poisoning. It’s not even the feeling of being drunk that I like, sometimes the first sip is the sweetest… you’re not drunk, but you can feel that first bit of alcohol entering your system, and it makes everything seem easier…
That can’t be good. It feels good.
I miss her so much. I was counting on the fact that by now, she’d have realised that she was better off with me, that I love her with all my heart and don’t want to be anything but good to her.
I genuinely thought we would get married. I haven’t just lost a girlfriend – I’ve lost my BEST friend. That’s what hurts. I can live without the sex and all that rubbish, that’s not what I miss (although I DO miss that!). It’s the companionship, the feeling that there was someone else in the world who would help you carry your burden, and you’d help them. Somebody who you didn’t have to put on a show for. Natural, you know?
I miss her so much.