This is a Text I Wanted to Send You

This is a Text I Wanted to Send You

Who this is about doesn’t matter. Same way I didn’t matter to you.

This is a text I wanted to send you but I couldn’t bring myself to press send due to the fact that I might offend and if you attack I’m afraid I’ve no defence.

I’m just here. In my apartment contemplating whether or not you deserve me to talk to you. I’ll find my way off this high horse someday but currently, I feel as if I’m falling. Not in a melodramatic sense but in the sense that everything around me remains exactly where it is as I just sink lower.

I find myself watching movies we said we’d watch together. The music from all these films melts into one glorious symphony as I notice the empty space in my arms. That’s where you were. No, I guess it’s where I wanted you to be.

I know your stance on all this so I’m unsure as to why I am writing. You didn’t love me and I have to be okay with that. It’s harder than that though. It’s as if a piece of myself has been taken away and I meant to find a piece that fits by myself. Why would I want another piece? I thought you fit perfectly… Evidently not.

It’s alright though. I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever said that may have offended you. I’m especially sorry for ever kissing you. Every time I did, I knew you didn’t want too. I was fighting a battle I couldn’t win and you kept kissing me. I can remember exactly how many times we kissed. I can name where we were, what we were doing and I can tell you what I was feeling. Fuck what was I feeling? It was an overwhelming amount of emotion. Like I’d finally won.

I think this is where you went wrong. You think that all I wanted to do was have sex with you. You’re right. I did. But in no way was that all. Did you ever ask yourself why?

I loved you. I fucking loved you and you couldn’t see it, read it or feel it so what am I left to do? I’ve written a book you won’t read, I’ll sing songs you won’t hear and I’ll perform on stages to audiences you won’t be in. The romantic in me says that I’m doing all this for you, that I’m trying to win you over by impressing you. I’m smart enough to know that that isn’t how this works.

I know I have to do this for myself. I’m just trying to figure out how to do that. You can call me bitter, a quitter or anything that makes you feel better. I feel shitty now, but one day, I’ll know it’s  for the best we are not together.

So here’s the question Why do I still think of you? For I know that you do not think of me and if you do, I guarantee you your thoughts are not the same as mine. If they were, we wouldn’t be in this little predicament would we?

I seem to miss that chase. Almost as if I long for people to not want me fully as it apparently gives me purpose. Fuck I hate being young and stupid. I know all the normal things like don’t put your hand in fire and try not too touch kids, but there’s all this little shit that we apparently “learn with time” and it’s fucking devastating mentally.

All of this sways with time but a constant seems to remain the same.

I’ll always love you and that will always bring me pain.

  • Nick Snedden
    Posted at 21:37h, 28 June Reply

    That’s beautiful man but chin up things do get better

    • Sam Osmond
      Posted at 17:11h, 01 July Reply

      I appreciate that brother.

  • Afriendyouhaventmetyet
    Posted at 23:19h, 28 June Reply

    Truly deep and meaningful it truly has a heart felt it as if someone would feel the same way is shy and socially awkward and to.. let’s say terrified to say anything directly to the person

    • Sam Osmond
      Posted at 17:10h, 01 July Reply

      Indeed I am. Thank you for reading.

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