Poorly Worded Closure for a Girl I Used to Know

I met the girl of my dreams.
An existential compliment.
To everything I thought I wanted.

And,
We didn't really stay together.
At the end.
We just didn't care.

But, we were inseparable from the start.
A passion past by on lazy hazy grey days.
Where the sun hides behind dismal clouds.
Brooding in the sky.

She was my own personal manic pixie dream girl.
That I heard about in movies.
I never watch.

Yet,
I pushed her away.
I cheated,
I lied,
I took her for granted.
I acted contrary to how I thought I would.

I'm not a very mature person.
I'm not good.
I'm not boyfriend material.

I thought she deserved.
Someone successful.
And me,

I was born bad.
Kept chomping at the bit of the Devil's ways.
Immolating every night into a nightmare.
An intoxicated degenerate.
Grovelling in my filth.

And, when she left to become a librarian.
I distanced myself from her and worked through my.
Emotions.
Alone.

So when the inevitable goodbye came.
When my stable life imploded.
When my plan came to fruition.
When she left.

When everything fell apart
I was buffered against the pain.
But, not her.
She balled.
Like she still cared about me.

After all that time I pushed her away.
From her flirtations with other men.
To her forgiveness for my bad behaviour.
I consumed her.

So.
She cried.
Uncontrollably.

I was a stone.

And I remember youthful nights where we.
Would go look at the stars.
Just outside of town where they were crystal clear.
Laughing at the spontaneous romantic event.
That I used to get my hooks in.

I remember the playing.
Sitting around.
The shape of her ass.
The feeling of belonging.
And, the feeling of absence.

I used to lose sleep over her being gone.
She used to haunt my dreams.
A ghost in the machine.

Then one day.
In a distance past tomorrow.

I realized.

That I wasn't in love with her.
Just.  
The thought of her.

And,
My,
Nostalgia for youth.

She was the symbol.
For all my bad choices.
That I want other people to make.