This is why I don't let you hug me. Because you hurt me to the point where I shed a few tears when explaining to my best friend (who might as well listen and react in the same fashion as a rock) why I was such an emotional wreck. You were in my head. You took over my thoughts. When I saw you my stomach dropped and sometimes I jumped. It shocked me every time because I was so used to you at one point in my life. I finally had a shoulder to lean on without the need for me to feel awkward, or an emo loser. You were the first person who kissed me, and I’m not talking about my first kiss ever, I’m talking about my first kiss with someone who was kissing me not because it was a dare, or because we were drunk, but because I had minimal make up, having a horrible day and you just wanted to. Without any substance or encouragement form anything or anyone else. To me, that was special, and probably something I will never forget. Another thing I will always remember is your hugs, and how for some reason when you hugged me I immediately felt better. That was a feeling I had never experienced before. And the more you hugged me, the safer I felt. I was becoming addicted to them. I even found comfort in your scent. I remember inhaling deeply every time purely because it made me forget what ever was going on for just that moment.
I never told you anything too deep, but somehow got you talking about things that you kept to yourself. Personal subjects, subjects I felt were told to me because I gained your trust. How silly of me to think of that, right? Because soon you wouldn’t even look at my face, say hello or even acknowledge the fact that I was alive. Now I’m used to that treatment. Honestly. I have even giving it to some people in my life as well. At first it hurt, but I just told my self, ‘Meh, I guess it was good while it lasted.’ And waited for myself to move on. But I never did. I’m still waiting. Why? I have no clue. I don’t like being in the same room with you anymore. You terrify me. The things you can do to me without you knowing are things that I rather not you find out. My stomach still drops. My head still spins. You still look the other way. And that hurts me the most, because I still don’t know why. I hate it the most, when you do talk to me, and I find my self struggling to keep the conversation, even though it was dead from the start. Why do I try so hard for you? You don’t care. I know the results. Why am I acting as if you were a huge part of my life? Why do I want to keep you in it? If there was one thing I hate more than anything about you now, is how bitter I am towards you about all of this. How I feel. And I feel it every time I see your picture, when I notice you in public. It kills me.
I literally want you. Not in a sexual way. I just want you to notice that I do live in the same town as you. I want you to just say hello. Smile at me, because you know I have a smile glued onto my face. Weather I want it there or not. I want you to hug me one more time. One more safe hug. That’s all really. You made me feel like a person for once. I guess I’m so hooked up on you because I want that feeling again. The sense of security, knowing that I could come to you with a feeling and you would actually talk to me instead of saying ‘that sucks’ like everyone else. I wish we were still friends. I don’t even know what we are anymore. I don’t care, but at the same time I do. I just don’t like this hold you have on me. I want you to let go. But then again, you have no idea it’s you. You don’t know what’s going on. You don’t care. And why should you? You moved on. You got over it. I clearly did not impact you as much as you did to me. So what does it matter?
It doesn’t.
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