You know, I never really thought that she wouldn't want to talk. I just assumed we'd get through it like we always did, patch things up, and move on. But, as it turns out, I was totally wrong. I kind of forgot about all the emotional baggage I piled onto her and how much I put her through mentally. It's like I had selective amnesia about my own actions. At least I can say that I was never physical, so I have no regrets in that department.
Back in the day, I had a bad habit of picking fights, and not just any fights—the ones that I would intentionally make worse, almost like it was a twisted game. There was something about stirring the pot that felt... thrilling? Like, "Hey, if we're going to argue, let's go big or go home!" It was my own bizarre version of fun. And now, looking back, I see how toxic that was. Classic case of "What was I thinking?"
Anyway, she might stumble across this blog or she might not, but I think this is my way of finding closure—or at least I hope it is. She's happy now, living her best life with Shawn, and I really don't want to be the guy stuck replaying old episodes of our past. But, man, it's hard not to think about her when so many things remind me of her. It's like I'm in some cheesy romantic comedy, where every song, smell, or random object brings back a memory. It's almost comical, if it weren't so frustrating.
So, here I am, trying to move on. Day by day, I'm focusing on living my best life, just me and Dexter, my loyal sidekick who’s always up for an adventure—or a lazy day on the couch. It’s weird adjusting to this new normal, but I'm hopeful. Who knows, maybe one day, these memories will fade, and I’ll be able to think about her without feeling like I’m stuck in a rerun of our greatest hits and misses. Until then, it's one day at a time, trying not to be haunted by the ghost of relationships past.
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