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Hey there, my lovely ghost, the one who haunts me in the wee hours.
When my eyes open, it feels as though the doors to my soul are calling out to you. I wonder about those myths that say when someone thinks of you, you think of them too. Perhaps this isn't insanity after all.
Maybe that's why my prescription isn't working.
I don't know why I called you mine when all I did was anticipate having you around for a little while before reminding myself not to be a fool.
I remembered the song Can't Help Falling in Love. It says only fools rush in. Sometimes, I hate that I wasn't a fool. But then again, who would I be without my backbone?
It's funny how I miss you. How I have the urge to text you, yet no desire to rekindle the idea of us.
I have nothing to say, really. Just a hello.
Maybe I hesitate because I know that with you, it could never be just a hello.
I could tell you that I hate that you ghosted me. But honestly, sometimes I wonder if you saved me from an addiction I hadn't yet learned to recognize.
I don't think I like you anymore. Perhaps it's the idea of you that I can't seem to let go of.
They say an addict begins to change their fate by first acknowledging their addiction.
Well, I'm aware.
And somehow, my awareness hasn't helped me much so far.
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