I almost drove up there tonight.
I don’t know what made me consider it, but I know what made me not go: the last look I saw on his face. That look of deep hurt and anguish, feelings I had caused and could not take away. What I saw that night haunts me still, tortures me with guilt and shame. The thought of seeing that look on his face is what kept me home.
Because any tiny stupid hope I might have of him actually being glad to see me, pointless hope that he wants me back as much as I want him, futile hope that we can work things out, all of that is overshadowed by that look.
God I miss him.
August 13, 2013
Some days it just takes a while before I remember why I know he doesn’t want me back:
He was one of the 3 people that liked that post on his wall. And I just have to keep reminding myself of that.
And, yes, B.M.M., that’s for you. You done creeping, yet?