i’m sorry. not for loving you, and not for needing you, but for the ways my hurt spills over onto you sometimes. i know “perfect girlfriend” is a terrible phrase; impossible, unrealistic, but i still find myself wishing i could be softer, easier, less heavy to hold. i wish i knew how to miss you without it feeling like grief.
i know i do things wrong. i cry when you leave, i ask you to stay even when i know you can’t, i spiral over the smallest things until they become something monstrous in my head. i overthink until my own thoughts turn against me, until i convince myself of abandonment that doesn’t even exist.
sometimes i test the hurt before it can happen naturally, almost as if proving it first would make it easier to survive. and when those attempts come back empty, when you still love me, still stay, still look at me gently, i feel ashamed for ever doubting you at all.
the worst part is that i know you aren’t angry at me. i know you understand that my mind isn’t always kind to me. you’ve seen the lengths i go to just to wound myself with thoughts that were never real to begin with.
you’ve seen me create entire tragedies inside my own head and then mourn them as though they truly happened.
and tonight, until i see you again tomorrow, i’ll probably suffer quietly with it anyway. i’ll convince myself you’re upset at me even when you aren’t. i’ll hold onto the pillow that smells exactly like you and wear your shirt because it feels like the closest thing to being held by you.
i’ll replay your voice in my head just to soothe myself for a moment. and i’ll wait for tomorrow, for your “hey baby,” for your smile, for the way you look at me that makes every terrible thought lose its grip for a little while.
and then nothing will be wrong anymore. at least not for a moment.