As much as I hate to admit it. I miss it. Could I have misread care and passion for neediness and insecurity? Could be a move that haunts and did haunt me, until today. Probably the reason why I am how I am today. But part of me is glad that she is happy. I still see a bit of the then ‘us’ in everything I do. Many of the things I have around me were because of then. I was obsessed. Maybe I still am.
I did try to stop looking back and move the fuck on. But it’s the fear that haunts me, that every move I make could hit a black spot or a jackpot. We only have one shot to get what we want, then it’s a long interval before we get one more.
2 years and my subconscious now tells me I fucked up.
