I'm Venting

         I shouldn't be thinking about you. I live far away from you, I haven't seen your face in person for four years, four very long and dry years. It's been four years since I've heard you make that little snort you'd do when ever you laugh, four years since we talked about what we wanted to do with our lives. It's been four years since you told me you didn't love me. So why the fuck do I keep thinking about you.

         I live in an apartment with two other people, I bought a pet. She's a bearded dragon who I love dearly, but I see you're still living with your parents. I keep seeing you get new pets, bunnies, fish, kittens even. I don't know why, but I always look at the posts you make about them, I think I'm worried about them. I'm worried, because I'm scared you'll love and discard them like you did to me.

          Even if it hurt when you said you didn't love me, that doesn't matter anymore, I've moved on and I have my own life now. I've got a job, a pet, my own car, my (kind of) own place sure sometimes Ian doesn't do his dishes, but I still like it here. I moved to the city while you stayed in the woods. I moved while you stayed still and I still don't understand why you didn't start running when I did? We always talked about the things we wanted to do the things we wanted to create the ideas we wanted to see come to fruition, was I the only one taking that seriously!? I went to college, I started studying, I learned how to create, I learned the techniques, everything I came here because of you and I'm just now fucking realizing it. I started studying film, because I wanted to be like the guys you liked... You always fell for the cute artsy types and I was never that. I was always fat and ugly, I had the creative part down, but when it came to making myself beautiful, to your standards it never worked. I was never the subject of my creativity it was always others. The more I studied though the more I began to realize of course, this is where I belonged. Behind the camera and never in front of it...

         Well guess fucking what. I'm working really really fucking hard right now. You don't even know, hell you don't even care I know you never think of me, even though I always think about you, I think about how you fucked me up, you got me so fucked in the head that I went to school to learn how to shoot, and edit and everything, I did all of this so I could create something beautiful... So that maybe for once you would be looking at me. Because whenever we were together, whenever we were hanging out you were never looking at me.

         I remember one night... You asked me if we could skype alone, of course I said yes. I loved hearing your voice, I loved your company and the way I felt when you talked to me. And now that I look back and think about it, you never would have had those feelings, you never felt the warmth in your cheeks, the beating of your heart in your chest, you never heard the voice in my head that knew all along that I was nothing you were interested in.

         I still remember the night I told you that I was in love with you, we were in a group skype and it came up who we liked. You said some famous person an obvious dodge of the question looking back even if it was honest, and when it came time to me to answer I couldn't. I just said she was really funny and cute, but I kept being attacked by you and your friend "Who, who specifically!?" I left the call, I said I had to go because I was on the verge of fucking crying. I'd only felt this once before, you pm'd me and asked me "Is it me?" I sat there for ten whole minutes asking myself what the right answer was, and somehow through cloudy judgement I said "Yes." And I got up and went to my bathroom, I couldn't breathe my chest constricted around my lungs, I'd finally told you and I had no idea what you were going to say, but every time I thought about it in my head, you always said no. I paced the bathroom, sobbing for five minutes until I started to calm down.

         I went back to my computer and there was your reply "I'm sorry, but I don't like you that way." I was upset, I didn't know how to react I was still a child so all I could do was say "Of course you don't I know, you'd never be interested in someone like me." And god do I regret those words, because now I would have just pushed passed it. I wouldn't have said anything, I never would have admitted it, I would have just kept living a lie to protect myself, because maybe then I wouldn't be here. Then again, if it wasn't for you I wouldn't be here, I wouldn't have matured so much, I never would have been able to pick what I actually wanted to do with my life. I had no idea up until senior year of high school until something in my brain said "Prove her wrong, become strong." So I applied and was accepted into one of the states best film schools, if not the best. I passed with A's, I'd already studied these things before coming to college, I understood what they asked and I studied hard, because I was running.

         And maybe I was running for the wrong reason, but I still did and fuck all if I started running because you crushed my heart and soul. I still started at least and I did it without you, I got to this point by myself with no one else helping me along the way. I became strong and independent, I learned what it was like to have people depend on you, to know you specialize in something, to have a professor look at you and say "Fuck it I'd hire you." I've been contracted by people, because I work hard. I got here not thanks to you, but because of you. I wouldn't be sitting here writing this though unless there was some stupid caveat.

         Even though I made it here I still look at what you post, I see you with your new boyfriend and for some reason it still hurts deep down inside. It's like I'm still looking for validation, even though I know I don't need to be validated by you, I have hundred of other people that do and have, I have people telling me I'm doing great, but I don't really feel it and is it because I'm not hearing it from you? I don't know, but that's what it feels like sometimes, because occasionally you like my Instagram photos. You know the ones I went to school to learn how to take? With the camera I worked my ass off to buy? And sometimes when you like them I still feel happy, and I get mad because... I don't want to feel happy when you like my pictures. I don't need you to like them why are you even following me anymore, why do you still linger.

         I want to take pictures of you, ones that your boyfriend could never take in a hundred years. I still want you to be my model and my muse, because you're still beautiful, even after all the pain you brought down on me. I want you to bathe in the warm golden light of the sun in the evening. I want to see your little wispy hairs dangle in front of your face, and I want to see your smile when you reach up and tuck them behind your ear. I want to see you again, but I'm never going to, and I need to move on. I'm sorry if things don't always work out for you, but they never really seemed to work out for me either. If I don't ever see you again, then I'll say this "I love you." You don't need to say it back.