I’m sad because I love you and I have to sit next to you while you encourage me to talk to boys at bars. I’m sad because no matter what I tell myself, we probably won’t ever get back together and pretty soon I’ll either have to accept that you’ve met someone new, or cope with you leaving for the navy. I’m sad because I actually considered joining the navy with you when you suggested it because it meant you wanted me somewhere with you; it meant you wanted to share something with me; it meant we’d be inevitably connected for life. I’m sad because I’ll never ever tell you this because you’d probably suggest we see less of each other for the sake of my sanity and emotional well being. I’m sad because I know you care about me more than almost anyone else. I’m sad because when I hit the fucking space bar to start a new sentence on my kindle, the autocorrect suggests your fucking name in bold letters. I’m sad that I wake up every morning and whisper “I won’t text him today,” but then I do, or you text me, or you invite me out or in or over. I’m sad because I say yes every time, no matter who I had plans with, or how early I need to be up in the morning, or how much it fucking hurts. I’m sad because I’m as delusional about our break up as I was about our relationship. I’m sad because in my desperate attempt to keep you around I think I’m pushing you further and further away. God dammit I’m sad because I find every one who’s not you utterly boring and idiotic. I’m sad because you could read me the ingredients of paint and I’d hang on every word. You’ve ruined me. Keep fucking ruining me.