You've Moved On, I Haven't

I notice that you're online on Facebook. As much as I will myself not to check your profile, I succumb to the urge to see what you've been up to these past few weeks. Scrolling though your profile I notice a picture, a plate of food with a caption and a name tagged on it. Reading the caption and the name, I couldn't help but die a little in the inside. So much for self control, now I have to spend the rest of the day moping and being depressed because of that damn picture.

I try to fight my brains incessant nagging to send a chat message, but common sense flew out the window and I ended up sending one. We seemed casual at first, but then I started bitching about the past and how I haven't moved on, yada yada yada! You seemed nonchalant about it, brushing the subject off because to you it's no longer an issue.

At this point I felt foolish and depressed. I will myself to end the conversation, wishing you good luck on everything, but it seemed you didn't even read that last message, because there was no reply. 

You seem really happy, which is what I genuinely want for you. At the end of the day, what matters most is that you be with someone who can do things for that I wasn't able to, give things I wasn't able to give, and essentially make you happy just as you are now.

So with this I say goodbye, I mean really, good bye.No more stalking your Facebook profile, no more random texts and chat messages, no more moping around every time I see your picture. Because the reality is you've moved on, and I haven't.