I loved you. You played me. And I apologized.

You promised to not be like the rest, only for me to find out you were worse than all of them.

Tell me one thing. Why wasn’t I fucking enough? I loved you. Oh fuck how I loved you. How I still love you

You hurt me so much that I began to believe I deserved it, and then I wanted to hurt myself too.

I gave you the power to break me and you did.

I thought I would write about it until it didn't hurt any more. But now I think I will probably run out of words long before that ever happens

I suppose you won’t be needing me any more then. Is that it, we go back to our lives again now?

You have no idea how much I miss you, do you? I bet even if you did, you wouldn’t care. You might laugh and brush it off. You might tell me “I miss you too” and for a moment I might believe you, until I realise that it’s a lie. God, it hurts. I can’t just sit here and think about how much I miss you. I want to tell you, and I want you to miss me too, but that isn’t going to happen. I want to see you, talk to you, scream at you, shout at you, hug you, kiss you. And I can’t, it’s killing me. You’re killing me.

There were things I wanted to tell him. But I knew they would hurt him. So I buried them, and let them hurt me.

You did exactly what you promised you wouldn’t.

It hurts like hell, I can’t do this anymore