I wonder if you know that I stare at the glaringly empty seat in the car where you used to sit every morning.

I wonder if you know that today when I smiled at you and you acted like you didn’t even see me, a little part of me shriveled up and died. I wonder if you saw my face drop as you walked away.

I wonder if you ever realized that the only eyes I’ve ever wanted on me were yours. And you couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t give me that.

I wonder if you know how much I think about you. How I replayed our last conversation  in my head over and over again. How I talked myself into and out of liking you a thousand times.

I wonder if you know how many words I’ve written about you.

You.
Hyperbolic you.
You in my head at two am and you for a split second in the hallway and you in front of a Christmas tree and you in my living room and you riding your brand new bicycle and you on my swingset and you teaching your little brother how to play basketball and you in your karate uniform and you with your profile silhouetted in the dim morning light and you with your charmingly messy handwriting and you walking down the street with the sun shining on your face and you telling me you were going to take a creative writing class this year and you with ice cream melting in your hands and you when we were kids playing in the snow with your cheeks all pink from the cold and you with your goofy grin and contagious laugh.

I should start charging rent for all the space you’ve taken up in my mind. I would make enough money to move far, far away and never have to see you again.

I wanted you to be my everything, but that’s impossible when I’m nothing to you.

Do you know the effect you have on me? It’s probably better you don’t. No one person should have all that power.

I hate all the time I wasted on you and I hate that I can never get it back.
I hate that you’ve become someone I don’t recognize and I hate that it took me so long to figure it all out.