Squeeze, Smash, Stomp

Don't know what's up. It's been a good day. Real good. Done what I should. Had some cheesecake. Hooked up with an old childhood friend. Etcetera. And still that fucking phone call is what bothers me.
Why can't I just let it be?
Why is it so hard to move on?
Always late... too late... and... it should be easy. It shouldn't feel like this. It feels like I've been betrayed, like there's no trust left. But I was the one to leave, I was the one to walk out. I don't have any right to say anything. I may have right to grieve what I've lost... but it's nothing but tragic that I can't be happy about other people being happy. Can't be happy that he's happy. Maybe it's because somehow, my stubborn self keeps telling me he's found happiness in someone else. That I wasn't enough to make him happy. And despite myself... my feelings... and despair... this just makes me think, well... I should let him go. For his sake, you know? If this is what it took for him to find joy in life then I should let him...
So why?
Why does it suddenly squeeze my heart? Smash it? Throw it to the ground and have someone stomp on it...?
I don't know.
Mum says, it's not been a whole year yet since I got off the pill, and just now is when I'm starting to become my old self. Why is that? Cause if all this... going back and forth... changing my mind... is all due to that... then I fucking hate them more than ever.
I thought it'd get better. I'd find my path. I'd find my signs. But there aren't any... no signs anywhere... and I'm just more lost, more lost than ever.

I believed that we would always be family. And I still want to believe in it.
I can see why but... you're walking out on me...
I walked out first and now you've had enough... you're leaving me.