December 23

It’s hard to fall asleep every night. I can’t remember when’s the last time I cried this much and this often. I feel ridiculous.

When we walked into Panera, I thought of you. When Sherman talked about his real analysis class, I thought of you. When he talked about Kayla, I missed you. When I was baking cookies, I thought of you. When Leeds showed me a video of his jazz band playing, I thought of you.

I wonder if you know. I wonder if you know how many tears I’ve spent on you. I wonder if you know how many hours of sleep I’ve lost over you. I wonder if you care. I wonder if you know that I check who sees my Snapchat stories often just to see if you saw. That I check Facebook for things that you liked, things that you commented on. That I check that last time you were online. That I look to see if your green dot is on Hangouts. That I check if your ex-girlfriend changed her profile picture or posted something of you or wrote a blog post. That I torture myself by listening to your past with her.

This isn’t healthy. I want this to stop. I don’t want to care about her health. I don’t want to care about how you’re handling things. I don’t want to care. But I do. But I don’t want to. I don’t want to know if she was serious or manipulative. I don’t want to know if you wanted to or if you did it out of desperation. I don’t want to know if you even thought about me at all.

If it’s been three weeks, why does it still feels the same?