longer pieces by elliot (letters I will never send)

Q, 

I wonder if you miss talking to me. I wonder if you miss staying up until ungodly hours of the night or waking up just to text me a “good morning”. I wonder if you miss having a heart follow my name on your phone. Does it bother you? That we don’t talk, I mean? I wonder if you think of the brief months where you centered your life around me. When you catch my eye in the hallway, when you end up behind me in a line, what’s going through your head? Because, in my head, I’m individually replaying all of those facetimes, all the times I felt your callouses in my hand, everytime I felt safe around you, everytime I felt regret and anger for dating you. I want you to know that when I hurt you, it hurt me just as much. Watching you cry was possibly one of the worst experiences I had with you. If you couldn’t tell while we were close, hurting other people is probably my least favorite thing on earth. I hope you were aware of how much I hated myself for ending our relationship. I hated myself so much, Q, so much. So the fact that you don’t talk to me only makes me feel that much worse. Unless none of this is true and this was all a lie and you don’t think about me when I see you and you don’t think about me when you think about crew and you don’t think about me when you’re alone with your thoughts. Am I that easy to forget? Maybe. You have no idea how badly I want your name to light up on my phone. And I kick myself sometimes for deleting that stupid app, but I miss it. But maybe you don’t. Maybe I need to stop thinking about you because you aren’t even thinking about me. And that’s fair, I guess, I messed up, I broke it off, I broke you and simultaneously broke myself in the process and I’m sorry. I’m sorry because I never gave you what you gave me. I’m sorry because I never put in that effort that you said I lacked. I’m sorry you can’t figure it out and talk to me. 

Loving me must have been so *** hard and I’m so *** sorry.