WHAT DID I DO?

It begins with excuses, then builds up to doubt, which leads to confusion....then you try another route... confirmation, but then you realize and finally accept.
I don’t know how to write anymore. sheets of crumpled pieces of paper lie on the floor as I brainstorm how to process this feelings. "Can never happen to me" turned to "how did I get here?" I get my key and open up my house of failed relationships. Walking through the corridors of misread intentions wondering "what was I thinking then?" Looking at the paintings on the wall of things I wish could’ve been.... I step into my room and the walls are riddled with questions "what went wrong?" " was it me?" "am I just a regular girl?" But then I turn around and open up my wardrobe and there lies my phonograph....I press play and it begins playing a beautiful melody of cute banters, lovely complements, passion with the rhythm of vulnerability..... I dig deeper and I see some clothes. the clothes in there are riddled with dust and self-loathing, rows and rows of "other options." I shut it. I walk into my dining room and I remember the first meal. the food we ate and the wine that made me drunk on love and hope... Hope for a brighter someday... I guess not. Now this building is an empty shell of who I thought he was. was he a figment of my imagination or....... was I a ghost?