I have tried to change my mind about you in every possible scenario, and I’ve tried moving on. But I can’t bring myself to fully do it. It’s bad of me to say, but I want you back. This new guy, he’s no you.
And no one else will ever come close.
I’m sick of dating and trying to find what feels like a replacement for you. I don’t want to get notifications from Tinder and I certainly don’t want the pressure of messaging first on Bumble. Lord, help me if I go on another awkward first date or reject a fuck boy who only wants to bang but pretends he wants more. I only want you.
I’m aware of why we didn’t work and why we never will. But I still fantasize about being with you, even if you are a better version of yourself in my memory than what you are in reality.
I keep seeing a picture-perfect image of what I wish we were; that Hallmark Channel love. But those daydreams get to me.
As bad as it is to say, my bed and couch were the most comfortable when you were snuggled up next to me. Without you, it just feels odd. I can’t seem to get comfortable because you’re missing, and no amount of pillows or weighted blankets will change that.
The little moments mattered to me the most. It wasn’t the great sex, but the way you’d nuzzle your body into mine. The way you’d mumble that you’re falling asleep when I’d massage your scalp. Or the way your lips felt on my cheeks when you’d make fun of me and I’d play hurt, and you’d try to make it up to me while laughing.
There was always something different about you, no matter how cliche it sounds.
It doesn’t feel right when someone else kisses my neck in the same spot you would or the way they try to hold my hand. I don’t feel chemistry like ours with others. It feels unnatural and forced, from the conversations to the sexual chemistry.
Sure, I might be torturing myself, but I’m just being honest. I could replay every shitty thing you did to me over and over again, but I’d still stupidly choose you. Believe me, I’ve tried to convince myself we weren’t good together. But I can’t get the idea of you out of my head, no matter how many replacements I try to find.
And although I’m really trying to look at things logically, I just can’t. I miss the way you’d make me feel special and the way you’d validate me. I even miss the petty arguments and childish banter. Maybe we weren’t the best couple in the world, but we certainly weren’t the worst. And I have more legitimate reasons to miss you than to hate you, by a landslide.
So no, maybe I don’t want you back.
Maybe I want the old version of you I’ve developed in my head. I want the version of me who trusted you because I didn’t know you were capable of anything different. And I want the version of us that felt so effortless and cozy. I want to be back in the beginning because whatever I have with someone else is no comparison.
He’s just not you, no matter how many times I prayed he was.