It would be a horrible mistake.

That’s what I have to tell myself, over and over again until I can get it through my thick skull. It still doesn’t work. The thought is too tempting, almost too easy. It wouldn’t hurt…right?

Fuck! Yes! It would! Stop it!

But the phone is already open. Your contact is already pulled up. It would be so easy for me to just…reach out and press call. So, so easy.

I can. I can’t. I should. I shouldn’t.

God, what is happening to me?

This has become a constant war with myself for the past year. Moving through the motions and successfully talking myself down has always been how this has played out. But I fear this time is different. I can’t place why, but I feel it. Something tells me my logic isn’t winning this time. Something tells me I’m going to end up calling you.

We broke up last year, messily. Words that shouldn’t have been said, promises broken, and a brewing sense of hatred. Our once beautiful and beloved relationship came crumbling down all in one night. And I was too selfish at the time to admit my own faults.

Is it still selfish now to finally own up to them? After all of this time?

I shouldn’t even be thinking about you anymore. I’ve seen the pictures, heard the news that you’ve found someone knew. Your friends told me about it, because—yes, shamefully—I still talk to them. I don’t have the right, but I also can’t lie and say that it doesn’t hurt. Badly.

I miss you. That much is evident. But tonight, that feeling is stronger by a tenfold. Probably more than that, actually.

Since I’m currently writing for my next album, obviously I source from real life experiences. Though, this album seems to all be coming out about you. Every. Single. Song. It’s almost pathetic. But the one I wrote tonight, dubbed ‘Cherry’, is what’s left me in my ruins like this.

Writing it all out, seeing so clearly now where it all went wrong, and recognizing that you’re no longer mine for—probably—the first time. It’s too painful. I can’t miss you like this anymore. I need to hear you voice. I don’t even care if it’s cursing me out or your prerecorded voicemail box. I just need to—

Oh, shit. It’s dialing.