I miss you. So much. But I don't miss the person you can be. I don't miss the SA. I don't miss you forcing me to get drunk. I don't miss the abuse. But the good times make me miss you. When we were baking together at midnight. When we would lay on the couch and watch movies or blast the tv so loud playing something stupid that made us laugh that your parents would yell at us. The time we painted matching jeans even though I hated wearing jeans your smile was worth it. But everytime I miss those times I remember you grabbing my chest while I tried to sleep. The fear of what you did when you got me to overdose into sleep. The countless times you convinced me I was unlovable. The times you stole my phone and blocked the only people who could convince me to leave you. The pictures you forced me to take. I can never forget the feeling of your hands around my throat while you held a pillow over my face. It keeps me up at night. But I wonder if there is a version of you that some people only get to see the good side. Was I the only one who saw the bad side? I know no one will believe me if I tell them about the abuse. Maybe it doesn't matter if they believe me. I hate you. But I miss you. You made me so dependent on you I don't know what to do now that I left you.