I Shouldn't Care, but I Do
We dated for six months. Then he left. I don't know what to think anymore. I mean, I should be angry, right? I should be wanting to rip his guts out. I should want an explanation, an apology, a heart-felt justification with tears and "I'm sorry" from him. But he just left. No note. No call. Nothing.
So what can I expect from myself? To wait around for him, for the call or the note? No, I'm going to do something. I'm not going to wallow. I'm going to move on, because frankly, there are more important things in life than boys.
At first, I really thought I could pull things off. I really did. I thought that college would be a no-brainer. Just show up to class and take notes. Oh, and study in between classes, because that way, you can be one up on everyone else. Yeah, right. College isn't anything like that. It's… stupid. Its life and I hate it. It reminds me of him, because college is taking off without me. He left me for some stupid band all the way across the country. And when did he get into music?
So I guess I couldn't deal with it. I miss him. So much, but he isn't coming back. At least not for me. I'm stupid and masochistic. I blame everything on him. Everything. He screwed up and lied and didn't tell me things and just used me. Did he even like me for me? Oh yeah, he was supposed to be my boyfriend. Is that what you call a sick, cynical, egotistical male with an aptitude for let downs? God, you don't know how many times I've thought of the day he'd come back and pictured it to be a major disappointment. He's infamous for being lazy.
Don't ask me why I liked him. Don't ask me how I managed to fall in love with him. Don't ask me how I can't seem to let go of him. All I know is that maybe it was my screw up, and he's probably thrown out every single shred of property that seems to connect back to my existence. At least he can move on. I thought I was the strong one, because I can actually stay and fix my problems. He just ran.
I want to scream, to cuss, to kill even. But I can't bring myself to do a thing. Mom thinks everything's fine and dandy and that I've found a new joy in life. How can I when I'm still hung up over some boy, who may or may not have liked me for me, when I can't even come to terms with my own mistakes? I'm a failure. A stupid, little girl who can't get her head out of the clouds. I never wanted that happy ending, no, I wanted that perfect ending where everything isn't happy; it's brilliant. And I wouldn't have to beg for anything ever again. I wouldn't have to be pining for some shadow in my past. I'd be living in the moment. But I'm the stupid, little girl who wants the happy ending with someone I can't even seem to catch. He's smoke between my fingers and I don't get it.
And then he shows up, out of nowhere, looking for the stuff he left behind. Hey, I'm the girlfriend that he left behind, so maybe I'll get some sort of apology. But no. Every single time I come near him, he just runs away. It's my home, so why can't I feel like I belong here anymore? Everywhere I go, I feel dirty and I feel the weight of my memories bearing down on me and I can't forget. I just can't. He's everywhere I go. I shouldn't feel like this.
And it all comes down to a single night, I guess. I never expected it. I really didn't. I was out for burgers, because Mom and I were hungry, but then he shows up. He shouldn't be able to dictate me like this. So I left. I just walked away, and he had the nerve to follow me and say my name and tell me to wait. I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR A WHOLE YEAR! I shouldn't have to be told to wait again, and I shouldn't have to hear my name spoken by his voice, because God knows how painful it is, and I shouldn't have to run. I shouldn't have to do anything by his terms. So I stop, and I face him because that's not what he expected.
You know, I imagined what this moment would be like. If Josh ever came back to haunt me. I thought up a hundred… million… trillion scenarios and all of their endings, and I can honestly say that I don't know which way it could go. It could go for the worse, or for the best. But to hell with that because I want my explanation, my apology, and I want you to justify why you left me. You didn't even tell me you were going, and I had to find out the hard way, through the very same bitches that sabotaged me and you. So give me your goddamn explanation.
And then he says it. The very three words that I thought I could say to him, but I couldn't because he wasn't worthy of it. And he dares to say them.
I love you.
He turns and walks away for good.