I checked your Instagram again.
It felt really embarrassing, especially considering how I have to make the conscious effort to go to instagram dot com on my massive laptop screen whenever I feel called to see you.
I hate you a lot. You made me feel weird all the time. I was always fighting for the slightest indication that you care whether I live or die, so with that in mind, I feel ridiculous for thinking of you as often as I have this past week. I don’t miss you in a real way, I think. On a nervous system level, I have never felt better than without you.
I don’t hate you a lot; that wasn’t true. I like a lot about you, that’s why I let things happen the way they did for as long as they did. At least now I can recognise that it would have never worked out. I just frequently wonder what you think. Do you miss me in any capacity? It could be something as simple as how our schedules lined up, that’s the kind of thing I miss about you.
I almost wrote you, but I couldn’t think of what to say. Maybe there’s not much I have to anymore.
Prettygirlvstheworld 
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