I'll Think About You Until It Stops Hurting

I'll Think About You Until It Stops Hurting

Last update: 28 July, 2022

I’m sorry, you weren’t the one.

You weren’t my inspiration. My forever and always.

You weren’t the one that brought out the best in me from the deepest, darkest corners of my soul. You weren’t the one to take me by the hand to watch the stars come out at night.

It just wasn’t you…But maybe that’s what you wanted.

I fall asleep, visualizing that beautiful sky full of stars. I fly from my bed, past you and I, and past the memories.

Tomorrow’s another day.

This bed is so empty. So big. So roomy. And the worst part is that it’s always been this way, whether you were with me or not.

I do my best to get out of bed, so as to not see the empty space next to me as I do.

The scent of coffee wafts through the kitchen. It smells delicious, and seems to comforts me.

I try to make out the memories. I can’t even remember clearly. Thousands of images fly through my mind: a kiss on the neck. The rush. I start to remember…

You weren’t the one to call me “beautiful” every morning, or make me laugh in the middle of my yawns.

You weren’t the one that trusted me. That said it would be forever. That said you were there for me. You weren’t the one that could light up my world for a thousand days, just by cracking a smile.

But I didn’t ask you for any of those things, either.

You were never my bet. My challenge. My fight.

Maybe I was the one who didn’t want to fight for us…

And I’m sorry.

I put sugar in my coffee, for some reason. I usually like it strong. Maybe I need some type of compromise today, or some kind of treat. Memories can really hang you out to dry. I sit back and wait for my coffee to cool.

I think and close my eyes. I can’t ever remember heat. Just the cold.

You weren’t the one to make me and the bed tremble every night. No matter the color of the bags under our eyes or how tired we were.

You weren’t the one that pushed me to the sidewalk when it started raining so I could enjoy nature and be a part of its beautiful smells and feelings.

Hate me. Insult me. It would probably be the most emotional thing to come out of you this whole time. Do something volcanically emotional. Do something to budge your cold heart. The cold heart that froze this relationship.

And so there were two of us, instead of one. Maybe that was our mistake. Now isn’t the time to look back and ask ourselves who’s to blame. And I’m sure it was me. So I’m sorry, but you weren’t the one.

coffee cup

I take a sip of coffee. It’s tasty, not so bitter. I taste it and remember…the flavor of nothing. The flavor of disillusion, disenchantment and routine.

A maelstrom of noise. People, drinks. More people and more drinks. Until the body reaches its limit and we fall asleep without thinking. Without thinking about you and me, or we.

The fact is, hangovers with company are less of a hangover.  Maybe that’s why we lasted as long as we did. Who knows?

I don’t have much coffee left, maybe one long sip or two short ones. And that’s what it all comes down to: choices…And I don’t know what to do with my coffee. I never have.

Maybe I should just throw it on the floor and let it break into a thousand pieces. Then later I’ll pick up the broken glass and clean up the coffee.

Because you weren’t the one who made me happy and made me daydream. You weren’t my favorite place to be.

You weren’t my reason to go home and disappear from the world for hours on end.

I’m sorry. Choosing has never really been my thing. I’ll have another cup of coffee tomorrow. And while I do, I’ll think about you, until it doesn’t hurt anymore.

You save the memories from now on, because they don’t fit in my heart anymore. Deep down, we always knew. I was never me and you were never you.


This text is provided for informational purposes only and does not replace consultation with a professional. If in doubt, consult your specialist.