If you had any idea that I was still so hopelessly in love with you, would we still be friends? If you knew the way my heart jumps with glee when I see an incoming call from you, would you still call? It pains me to admit that I only answer because of the tiny sliver of hope in the back of my mind that you will, somehow, with time, maybe begin to feel something for me. The logical part of my brain knows that this is stupid and pointless, that I'm torturing myself in order to not lose you.
But I've already lost you. You never wanted anything from me besides the satisfaction that my body could offer you. I know that. I hate you for it, even. And yet I'm still losing sleep wondering if there is any possibility of a future for us. I break down occasionally in frustration.
Sometimes I want to call you and just scream it in your face that I'm still in love with you and to never call me again. Not because I don't want to hear from you, but because the pain of knowing there will never be anything more is literally gnawing away at my insides. Because at some point you're going to find someone, and those calls will stop coming. I don't want to know when it happens. I don't want to know a thing about whoever you end up with or the happy life you have together. My world without you hurts. I don't know how to go back to life before you.