One of those weird, reflective days that I wish I could just sleep through

So there was a boy. A boy who is not the ex. A boy I stopped talking to. A boy I only stopped talking to because I couldn't figure out what to say if I didn't. Not talking to him seemed an easier option. Sometimes, it's just better to walk away.

I had strong feelings for this particular boy, but we were frozen in our respective impossible circumstances. I found myself daydreaming, staying up at night thinking about him, reading the same emails over and over. I started to feel like a hamster running on a wheel. Just running, running, running and never getting anywhere.

Somewhere, I realized that I had elevated this boy in my head until he was no longer just a boy anymore. He was the answer to every question I'd ever had. The antidote to every painful heartbreak. The most wonderful boy. The most perfect boy. The boy who would make everything make sense. That this boy, really just a boy, could never do anything but disappoint me because he didn't have the script I'd written for him, hadn't practiced his lines, didn't know how this was all supposed to play out in the movie that I'd rewound and watched over and over and over when the car alarms kept me up and my brain kept me up and my body was restless and the sun was starting to come up and I still hadn't closed my eyes.

So I let him go. Or rather, pushed him away. Actually, I took a hammer and smashed anything that connected us to each other. Most of the time, I'm fine with the quiet aftermath of my destruction. Today, I kinda miss him. And that kinda sucks.