I miss him, but I’m not allowed to. I miss him, even though he’s not mine to miss. He never was. He’s always been yours, despite what he tried to tell me.
He’s gone right now, out in the wilderness, loving every second of it. And he isn’t talking to me anymore. But I’m sure he’s talking to you. And I’m so jealous of you for that.
You don’t know who I am, because he lied to you, even though it was long after what you had was over. He told you I was just a coworker. I was his girlfriend. He lied to protect your feelings despite it hurting mine. But obviously you’ll always mean more to him. I’m not a complete idiot, I’m aware that five years is so much longer than six fucking months. But six months was enough for me to slip and fall in love.
I feel like a fool for falling for him. Especially because he wasn’t nice to me like he was to you. He didn’t care enough about me to pretend. But nevertheless, I fell hard. I still love him and I’m sure you do, too. The only difference between us is that at the end of the story, you’re the one he ends up with and I was just the mistake in between.
