I was a young girl when I fell for you. Over and over, I let you hurt me and come back. Repeatedly, I came second to you. Only coming back when things didn’t work with your last relationship.

 

For so long, I talked myself into believing that it was some commitment issue of yours. I made these excuses – story-like ideas – in my mind that made me believe that I meant more to you than I probably ever did.

 

I vividly remember the days when you left and I would spend hours laying on the cold, tile floor just to feel something. My chest heaving with the pain that came with being second once again.

 

I’ve spent years instinctively looking for any remnants of you. Hoping that one day you would simply realize everything that you did wrong.

 

But sadly, I found myself wishing for things that wouldn’t happen.