What did you see in me? (Venting)

[OliverTreeLver]

It's been 481 days since I last spoke to you.
Yet every night, after my lover falls asleep, I check your streaming stats.

It's been ~68 weeks since you last texted me.
Yet I can't stop thinking about what you would say about the show I am watching.

It's been 540 days since I last heard your voice.
Yet even the smallest things still remind me of you.

It's been ~77 weeks since I've sat in your passenger seat.
Yet I bump your favorite artists on my stereo while I drive.

It's been 140 days since I promised I would get over you.
Yet here I am, still thinking of you.

I hate you.
​

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My mind swirls so much from one thought to the next when I think about you.
I can't help but laugh and cry when I reminisce on our adventures.

All the nights I spend filling my lungs with smokes, covering my real self in the screen.
The drugs make my head empty, forgetting the times we once had.​

I feel like I am going crazy; friends tell me I'm obsessed.
Moving on is the only thing I wish for.

I need you, I feel like you were good for me.
I can't move on.​

I know I will see you again soon, hearing rumors of you moving into my town.
I'm scared.

I want you to see me on the street one day and approach me.
Please notice me.​

Anxiety is the only thing that drives me to keep going in this feeble situation.
Barely enough money to put food in my mouth, let alone afford therapy.

You would understand right? You would get back with me and make me feel okay again.
You are perfect, I think. Memories don't do you enough justice when the photos are gone.​

I hate you. I never want to see you again. Everything you did to me.
How could I ever forgive you for it? How you broke me.

It's all my fault. I did it to myself. I don't know why I still blame you for it.
Why do I make my problems everyone else's fault? What is my issue?​

I said no. You know I said no. Why did you keep going?
Why did I like it too? This hurts my brain to think about.

I'm the worst. You said I was, therefore that is just what I am. A bad person.
Manipulative and narcissistic. A broken mess who can't get their shit together.​

I wish I never met you. I wish you never talked to me.
I would be so much happier if I was alone.

Meeting you was the best thing in my life. I was so small in my own shell.
You helped me in so many ways I don't know how to thank you.​

You betrayed me.

You saved me.​

I hate you.​

---

I remember the day you broke up with me. It was a brisk day, just before the start of winter. I remember how the days leading up to it were a different type of silence I never felt before. I have been alone many times in my life. I know what it feels like to have nobody, but the feeling leading up to the day was eerie. I remember how I would text you, to get no response. Quiet. It had me ruined. I was a nervous mess the whole ride up, with a weight starting to bubble in my throat. I felt like I was almost choking. We had arguments before, and I knew you were unhappy with me. My mind was racing over the different realities I could find myself in on my arrival back. I looked down at my phone while I started to pull into town, seeing a new message finally from you. "I want to talk tomorrow" was all it said, and the feeling inside me sunk.

We got into a back and forth that night. I demanded to know what you wanted to talk about, so anxious to learn what I already knew to be true. You refused continuously, wishing to wait till the next day. I hate when people do that. You knew I hated it too. Many times I would talk about friends who would ghost me for hours, ignoring me for days on end because they would get fed up with my antiques. The week of dread from waiting for you to respond, followed by the panic of losing you. It felt like I was getting ripped in half.

Finally, the time had came. I had no sleep the night prior, anxiously waiting in my driveway in the cold. I remember there was a light layer of snow mixed in with the protruding grass blades of my lawn. Your car pulled up into my drive way, and I stepped in with a box filled with the collection of your stuff. I couldn't look you in the eyes before I started to well up. You finally said it, "I want to break up". Those words stung, but I knew that I would have been okay if that is where it stopped.

You made a dedicated list, pulled up and ready on your notes app. You picked apart everything I did wrong, telling me why you don't want to be with me anymore. You told me it was just "for a short while" and to "think of it as a break". Made notions towards us getting back together. Said that it wasn't the end. Gave me hope. Then, after I finished crying, you left me with my things and I have never saw you again.

Two days later, I visited my dying grandpa one last time. It haunts me, that singular week of my life. Watching two people who meant the most to me disappear within days of each other. I can't think of my final moments of him anymore without thinking about you. Two weeks later, I learned from a mutual friend that you started seeing someone new. I started to gain a bad habit that day. I would continuously check your streaming stats, keeping my eyes peeled to every song you streamed. Looking for patterns to at least tell me you think about me. Maybe a playlist of mine, maybe a collection of songs relating to my favorite artists.

Two months later, after respecting your wish for being non-contact, I finally reached out to you again. I asked you how you were doing, seeing if you were okay, wondering if you wanted to chat. You responded, agreeing to make conversation. It was dry, I didn't know what to say. You would ask me questions, mostly relating back to the list of problems you made about me. I would respond to the best of my ability. Answering truthfully, I wasn't doing well. Post break-up depression was hitting, and I felt more alone than I ever had in my life. I was in a new town, with no friends. Nobody to talk to, nobody to listen. Days began to blur down there, melting into each other to make a singular thought. I was spirialing. I kept it honest, and you kept it honest too I guess.

You said I was the worst you ever had. The scummiest of them all. You said I was manipulative, narcissistic, that I only cared for myself and my own interests. You said I never loved you, that I never cared about you. That you were just some toy to me. You said how you found someone new, someone who treats you good for you. You said how you wish to never talk to me again. How you hate me. How you wish you never met me. You said how you are going to block me everywhere. Then you did. My Number, my Snap, my Discord, even my Spotify. I wish I could say that is the last time I ever reached out to you again.

Months have passed. I have an apartment now. I have a new partner, and I feel much happier. I have a cat, and I got my own friend group. I feel like I have came so far from where I was back in January. I sat in the summer heat, thinking about the old Dungeons and Dragons characters we made together. Listening to Stairway to Heaven, an idea hits my head. An urge to quit the lifestyle I was living. Quit the drugs, the vaping, getting high and letting everything pass through me numbingly. I focus my energy into making it a playlist, something we used to do together. I feel fulfilled by it, I feel happy. I felt happy, until a month later I caught you listening to it on your streaming stats.

Something so miniscule, a simple playlist I made, caused me to spiral again. Overthinking what it could mean. Do you miss me? Are you just checking up on what I am doing? Perhaps you have also been keeping an eye on me, like I have on you. I mean it is only human curiousity that causes us to want to know what the other is up to. I begin to notice you listen to it often. Almost every night. It drives me crazier and crazier every time I see it. I delete the app I use to check it, only to find myself desperately redownloading it to check again. I get nervous that my partner will catch me one day, worried they would be concerned for me. It isn't a problem, right?

Soon, it becomes a year since you broke up with me. Then, Christmas arrives. I make a vow to myself to stop checking. I make a vow to myself to move on. I mean it so much, I box the promise ring you gave me and chuck it at your door on the day of Christmas. You notice, messaging me on my drive back down to my new home. I panic, blocking your number. I stop checking your stats. I stop feeling so obsessed with you. I start to feel like I am finally healing. Life continues, I start to get my shit together again. My apartment stops being a mess, my relationship continues to grow stronger and I love them more and more. I enroll back into college, ending a gap year to hopefully get a strong start in my education. I barely think about you.

That was when I learned you are going to my college next year.

I hate you.​

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