I miss that dog

Why should I miss you? What do I even miss? Do I miss you not calling, or you not responding to my messages? Maybe I miss the hope that you might call. Or the lies you told. I guess I miss the lack of effort, the lack of love. You make me hate myself. We’re like cats and dogs, but I’m the cat— the one who barely scratches you because I’m scared you’re going to hurt me. And you’re the dog— the one I run back to just so I can be chased. We love running back to each other after we bite at each other. It’s stupid. I miss your voice. I miss the way you made me feel. I miss how one message from you could change my mood to happy. I just miss you. But I shouldn’t miss you. You don’t deserve to be missed, or even loved by me. I really want you to beg for me back, because you miss the love I gave you. But at the same time, I don’t want you to come find me like the annoying dog you are— because I might follow you again. I guess I just want you to want me back, just so I can rub it in your face that you can never have me. I don’t want you to be the dog I run back to anymore. But I think I’ll always have something in me telling me to run back to that dog. The same way a cat provokes a dog to chase it