I know nothing. Don’t know whether to write or not. Where to begin. What to say. I know nothing. I know nothing except for how much I loved you. How much I miss you. Miss our love. Miss us.
It’s been gone for a minute too. But I remember. Everything was so fucked up but somewhere deep inside, we weren’t. You betrayed me so much. You hurt me. I was so afraid and I got scared. I built up every wall I had to put up. And when I did let them down, you couldn’t see anymore.
You always wanted me to take some responsibility. There.
But it wasn’t me. It was you. All along. Who ran. Who was scared. Who was just trying to get away from it all, somehow. Lying became your second nature. To the point where lies began to overlap your truth. To the point where you convinced yourself even not to care. To give up and that there was no use. Every break-up fight we had, in the last 3 months, was because I felt your distance. You felt long gone.
All I could think was, why stay?
And now…after all this…I’m gone.
But you were everything to me. I adored you. If I forced you to look me in the eyes. Really look. I’d ask, “Where’d you go?” I’d ask you, “Why’d you leave first?”
Don’t get me wrong. I’m the one who really left in the end. I ended it.
But he left first, really early on….then somewhere in the middle…and in the end. Three strikes and you’re out. I forgave. I tried. At some point you have to make a rational decision. To save your self. To save your sanity. Over love. Over everything. Because that’s not love. I loved. I can honestly truly say, I fully loved. I loved to the infinite depths of my core.
He didn’t. He got stuck somewhere. He got stuck way before I even came along. And, you know, life. It has it’s triggers. And every person, their own set.