Medicine

I’ll pretend it doesn’t hurt.

I’ll pretend that I don’t need to cry, to let the tears take away every last memory. To have them drain all the good times from me so I don’t have to remember you.

I’ll pretend that I don’t care because you’re not worth me caring. You’re not worth a single tear. You’re not even worth the energy to shout my anger at you.

And I’ll pretend and keep pretending, when all the while the truth is that I do care.

But I don’t want to.

I don’t want to remember how we were. What I thought you were. Now you’re just another disappointment on the list. Just another check mark. You’re just another reason to never trust anyone again.

And all I want now is to tell you about my disappointment. All I want is some type of explanation. And my friends tell me I’ll never get it. Never get that closure. I know they’re right because usually I’m the one telling them what they don’t want to hear.

So now I have to swallow my own medicine. But damn, it’s a lot harder to swallow than I thought.