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Ended

June 5th, 2025

She ended things yesterday. I know myself so well now. For the first time in my life, in so long, I told myself the truth. That I hated her, and I hated that she ended things like this. I hate this. I hate running. I hate taking care of myself. I fucking don't want to run, I don't like sports, and I don't like exercising. I hate my fucking job, and I hate working. I hate building shit I don't care about. And I hate that she left me.

I spent the morning rotting in bed. Staring at the ceiling and praying that I didn't have to go to work that day. My mind rotted on Instagram Reels as I was still making sense of it, hoping she'd apply to my last attempt to patch things.

I wanted my phone call. I wanted to get clarity. Why? Why was she in "a bad headspace" and "not ready to explore this"?

I hate this. I want to know what I did wrong. Did I do anything wrong? I want feedback. I want something.

But I don't want to fucking hear it. I should want feedback, but I don't. I'm confused. I hate her. I want her.

I want her, right in front of me, talking to me. Telling me anything. But damnit she's not.

I don't give a shit. I don't care to be a positive person. I'm not a positive person. And no, it's not these words or that words. It's that I'm not a happy person, and I'm not a positive person. I want to watch the world burn, and I'm tired of acting as I shouldn't.

I'll never hear from her again. How strange the world works? One day, she's all you think about it, the next you'll never see her ever again.

Such a strange thing, no?

I just. I just wish that. I just wish that she had given me that call. I know unconsciously all I was thinking was "I can fix her," and I knew it was the wrong way to go, but I don't care. I'll do the wrong damn thing. I wanted to hear her side. Just that side. That empathy. That story. What was going on...

Hi, W. I'm sorry. I hope you have a wonderful life. Farewell!