I Was Never Good at Forgetting You

You keep saying that I forget you easily. I don’t know why that hurts so much, but it does, because if forgetting you were easy, I would have done it already. I would have saved myself the effort, the waiting, the quiet disappointment. But I didn’t forget you. I stayed through the good mornings I sent every day, even when you replied late or not at all, through the selfies I asked for because seeing your face reminded me that you were real and not just something I made up in my head.

I stayed through the nights too. I waited for you to finish your day just to hear your voice for a moment, even when I was already tired, even when my body wanted rest. I stayed awake longer than I should have, watching you fall asleep on the other side of the screen, pretending that this closeness was enough, telling myself that love sometimes looks like patience and silence. None of that was easy for me. I am not someone who likes to suffer. I used to sleep on time. I used to take care of myself. But somewhere along the way, loving you became something I needed, like air, like something my body would panic without.

And still, you doubt me. 

You question my love, as if all of this means nothing. I don’t know what else I’m supposed to give. I’ve already given my time, my energy, my nights, the parts of myself I used to protect. Sometimes I ask myself questions that scare me, questions I never thought I would ask. 

Am I wrong for choosing you? 

Am I fighting against something bigger than us? 

Is loving you something I’m not meant to do?

There are moments when I feel so invisible that I wonder if I need to disappear for you to finally notice how much I stayed. And that thought breaks me, because all I’ve ever wanted is to be seen, truly seen by you. Not as someone who keeps chasing, not as someone who loves too much, but as someone who is here, hurting, trying, and still choosing you every day. 

If I could forget you, I would have done it a long time ago. I would have chosen peace instead of pain. But I can’t. So forgive me for still reaching for you even when it hurts, forgive me for loving you in a way that slowly empties me. I’m not asking for perfect love. I’m just asking you to look at me and feel what I feel because I am tired, and I don’t know how much longer I can do this alone.