Supposed Former Obsession

Years ago, you were the love of my life.My mind used to fantasize about you. You’d lay next to me. You’d whisper you loved me. 

My mind would think of so many ways that you and I were meant to be together. I listened to you breathe while you were sleeping. My body kept your resting heart rate at 67 beats per minute. Your body always curves with mine and that crazy ass arch in your back welcomed me every night.

When we broke up, my heart broke. My mind still felt your heart beating. It still craved your arch. It still needed your sighs. It replayed our conversations And it replayed our nights on the phone until we fell asleep.

The nights you weren’t in bed with me, I often thought of you sleeping with others. Mainly.. him!! The one I caught you with. The nights you didn’t call, I knew you were with him. 

I couldn’t understand how I could be torn and you were just okay. And months and years flew by with you needing me and hating me and loving me and leaving me. I never understood why My heart, my mind, and my body was obsessed with you. 

I have a Facebook album dedicated to you. Someone decided to place all of your pictures in a folder because I couldn’t handle your face without crying or drinking for hours until my mind forgot you. 

And yet, I somehow believed that this was healthy. 

“But it’s taking me almost 4 years to get over him. We have to be meant for each other!” No, you were meant to ruin me. 

The days I’ve spent stalking your photos and praying you’d notice. To the days you spent stalking mine, knowing I’d notice. You never let me get rid of you. You never let me forget you. Every time I tried to forget you, you’d pop up in my inbox and I was once again addicted to you. Obsessed with you. In love with you. A prisoner of your bullshit. 

And I hated myself. 

I never understood how love could make me hate myself so much until a few weeks ago when I realized that you were just a game that I was too blinded into playing.

Nothing about you was real. Not even the stories you told me about your life. You never cared about getting to know me. You only cared about survival. 

Survival is how you went through life. You slept your way into the arms and hearts of men who were willing to love you so that they’d take care of you. 

 No judgment here. You are simply the new breed of gay men. 

Those who would rather survive than love. Those who use their body and throw themselves in relationships for the convenience of having a place to stay. 

I was obsessed with saving you and thinking that it was love. 

You cannot love someone you somehow pity. 

But somehow, my obsession started to fade and disgust started to appear. Seeing your face left rage, instead of melting at your eyes and pouty lips. Your pictures in my phone are now gone. The Facebook Album, deleted. I flinch when I see your posts online, so now you’ve been blocked. My heart is mending with time, and one day I will o longer flinch at your name, your appearance the thoughts of you.

One day, you will no longer exist and my mind will continue to forget you.


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