I would be lying if I said I don’t love you. I never got the chance to tell you I did. I felt like things were never good enough, and you didn’t deserve me loving you. It’s been a year now, Nick. It’s been a year of me putting you before myself. A year of me succeeding in every part of life, except with you. you didn’t change, you didn’t start caring about me, you didn’t make time for me. you said you didn’t want me, and that nothing could change that. I accepted that you were the one person who would never love me, no matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did for you.
I waited. I still loved you, and I waited. you came back giving minimal effort but convincing me that that was enough. you made me fucking delusional and I looked at you and seen the person I’ve always wanted. only wanting to see me after dark once a week isn’t fucking love. not talking to me for weeks while you’re with other girls isn’t fucking love. making me feel guilty for things I did that any normal person would’ve done isn’t fucking love.
What we have isn’t love. maybe on my end, not on yours. I was every chance you had at love. I welcomed you back with open arms and gave you the best you could’ve asked for on a silver platter. you ruined me. I don’t know who I am after you and thats the worst part. you’re the same person you were when I met you, and somehow I’m the worst version of myself. how the fuck am I the strongest person I know, and I let you do this to me? Stop messaging me Nick.