I think he said it best last night:

“You really can’t hold a conversation with me without being bitter can you? It’s that hard.”

granted, I do believe he was drinking despite his denial.

and I think I responded the best way I knew how:

“i used to be able to. at one point.”

it is. it is incredibly hard to hold any sort of conversation with that boy without hurting even a little. but last night, i was hardly bitter. last night, i don’t even recall being angry. but while i responded to his incessant curses and mockeries of me, i was the one being a psycho. with him, it’s always me. and had it not been for my last encounter, i may still be holding onto him in a way i know i should have buried years ago.

look, i don’t want to be with you anymore. not everything is about you. not every word i say is a flirtation, nor are they angry tones if you can’t pick out a slight hint of excitement. that nothingness, the feelings you can’t pick up anymore, it bothers you and i can tell. but saying that or acting on that anger won’t get you anywhere with me. you should know that by now.

i’ve moved on darling, you aren’t the last thought in my head at night. i don’t wonder how you’re doing or if you’re thinking of me anymore. actually, the only time i think of you is when i pull your sweatshirt out of the back of my closet because the others are dirty. i don’t hate you, i just don’t love you anymore either. i still care for you, a part of me will always care for you, we both know that as fact. but you can’t keep trying to drag that part out of me and mold it into something more. you’ve miss your chance my dear. it’s sad too, because we could have been great. we were great. but without you, i’m just as good as i was before. i’m not broken or wounded. i’m not depressed or enraged. i am as i was before, on my own. only now i’ve seen us, and i’m okay with what isn’t.