I Don’t Know Why I Do It


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I don’t know why I do it.  I feel like a stalker.  Someone who never knew you.  Someone that was never your friend.  A stranger.  I creep and I read as stealthily as I can so I don’t get caught.  My therapist has told me not to do exactly what I went and did.  I don’t know why I do it.

I look at your blog and your Facebook profile (even though I’ve unfriended you in both places because I was told this would “help my anger go away”).  I have to see if you are still alive and happier without me.  I don’t know why I do it because it just drags me down.  The memories and the abandonment come right back to me.  After I do it, I know I shouldn’t have.  I guess it is a force of habit.  Or a sense of wondering.  Or maybe……somewhere deep down I am thinking it could still all work out and we could be friends.  Maybe, I am hoping that out of some miracle you would contact me and tell me that you are sorry.  Or maybe, I miss what we used to have, while I know we can maybe never have that again.

So instead, I go through your social media even though I am told not to…..I don’t know why I do it.

I quickly log out of your page as I wonder…..do you do the same to me?  Somewhat hoping that maybe, just maybe, you do.

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