Why Can’t I Forget Your Number?


It’s been so long since I even had to call you. I have no idea why after all this time I still remember your number. I suppose the reason it is ingrained in my head is because it’s from a time when you had to remember numbers.

I typed your number into my phone so many times, so many times. Sometimes I didn’t even call or send the text because I was too scared to say the wrong thing or give you the wrong impression. I didn’t want to come across too needy. I didn’t want you to think or realise how much time I spent thinking about you. Time wishing things were different.

I don’t think you realised how quickly and how hard I fell for you. In fact, I think you did. I think you knew exactly what you were doing, it was a plan or worse still a game.

From the first kiss, until years after the last. I thought about you more than I should. I should have realised you were a liar when you told me I was beautiful. I should have been alerted to the absurdity of someone like you with someone like me. The up, the down, the spinning me round and round. I never knew where I was with you. You blew so hot and so cold. You left me dazed and confused.

I cried for you. I cried in front of you and instead of comfort, you turned away from me and turned on me.

I imagined realities where you didn’t suck. I imagined you being a good person. I imagined you being worth my effort. I imagined you saying the words I wanted to hear and meaning them. You charmed me so well that I didn’t see it coming when everything fell apart, the rug was pulled from under my feet. You did that and I don’t know if you even care.

The only comfort I have from our time, was the last time I saw you when I sensed some regret in your actions, that you had realised, even if only for a moment that I could be the one that got away. Oh sweet vengeance for a while.

But nothing held you down for long and in the blink of an eye you’d moved on. I don’t know what it was all about, what it all really meant. I could try to analyse it all but what’s the point now.

One thing I know for sure, you probably don’t remember my number.

x woeful writes x




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