The first night I met you, my intentions weren’t the greatest; but, you were so beautiful and I wanted to lie with you.
So I approached you thinking nothing would happen; and yet, you were open to me and recriprocated interest.
What blossomed from that was a beautiful relationship and conversation that was so effortless, so simple that all the cynicism I had on love and meeting people was being eroded. It went to as far as to a point where I was ready to completely let you in.
The unfortunate part of this story is that once I did let you in, you destroyed me. Things got hard, you wanted out, gave me a bunch of BS about a break and being friends; but, it’s been almost four months apart from our two year run, and I haven’t heard a damn fucking thing from you.
Most days, I wish I never met you. You’ve brought me back to being a cynic about love again. I guess I’m not worth it, and I hate that you made me feel this way. Now, all I feel is empty anymore and have this nagging sense of longing. In my heart, I want you back; in my mind, it seems a terrible idea and I hate you. I never knew what it was to simoultaneously love and hate someone. Now I know, and it s the worst fucking, shittiest thing ever because I still feel that we’re connected on a spiritual level, but you YOU are the one that ended it.
I want you to be happy, but I want you to run your car off a cliff. I want you to be happy, but I hope your dad who had cancer didn’t recover and is now dead. I want you to be happy, but I also hope every guy you’ve dated thus far has fucked you over and made you feel like a vessel again and like YOU can’t be loved for who you are and not just your body.
Fuck you. I love you.