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If Derek had wanted to

If Derek had wanted to sabotage any chance of a romance with Ryan, he’d done a masterful job at it.

I became obsessed with reading about him. Like a seven-year-old probing a sore tooth about to fall out, or a scabbed-over mosquito bite you just have to keep itching, I couldn’t stop myself. Every morning I got up and checked the website for whatever sleazy exploits he’d done the night before.

I hated him for what he was doing. More than that, I hated myself for giving in and reading about it. I saw how pathetic and weak I was being, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop reading about it, couldn’t stop the anger, couldn’t stop the jealousy, couldn’t stop the anxiety and depression and self-loathing.

Why couldn’t I get over him?

It was like being addicted to some horrific drug, but one that doesn’t bring any pleasure, only pain. I guess I needed a hit to keep me connected to whatever emotions and experiences I’d had weeks ago when times were good. Except now it was just torture.

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