Next year you won’t have an impact on me.

Next year I promise to leave you in the past where you belong.

I can’t do this one sided missing you anymore when I know you don’t care. I know it now more than ever. Don’t talk to me, don’t fuck with my head. What I’m doing is no concern of yours. Stop being ‘nosy’ and browsing my Instagram, you chose to leave so you lost all rights to know what I’m doing, how I am or who I’m with.

Next year I’ll stop wondering why I wasn’t good enough.

Next year I’ll stop missing the good parts of you I’ve reminisced about repeatedly. Because we both know they are long gone.

I’ll be realistic, if you wanted to be here you would be. I’ll stop holding on to the hope that when you check up on me it’s because you miss me or because you think you made a mistake. We both know you’d never think how you were wasn’t anything less than acceptable.

I’m going to stop thinking of reasons to message you, reasons to get you to talk to me. What’s the point? If you wanted to talk to me you would, without any hesitation. Without thinking about the impact it could have and most definitely without knowing how much it still hurts when I see notifications come up from you on my phone.

But the fact that you bothered to message me at all in the first place, shows how little respect and consideration for me you have. I deserve better than that. The fact I convinced myself that talking to you wasn’t fucking with my head, that it was ok … look how you’re twisting my mind again! You don’t deserve that kind of achievement.

But right now …. I can’t do any of that, I can’t even make myself think I hate you.