Broken

I don't know what to say.

You hurt me - how dare you even think for a second that just because I cannot show you the same affection it automatically means that I do not think of you the same way you might for me - and it hurts, it hurts.

Everything hurts.

I think I'm fine until someone talks to me about something small, insignificant, and then the tears don't stop until I walk away to stand in quiet chaotic thought.

It's because of you that I finally know what people mean when they refer to mascara-streaked tears.

I love you - I never told you because I didn't know to trust myself, didn't know what love was supposed to mean. I think some part of me was afraid to say it because it would feel like saying it to save us.

I love you - or at least, I love you enough to mourn. I don't know if you'll chalk it up to some natural reaction to being broken up with, I don't care even. I never got to tell you, and if you're really reading my blog then I hope you see this, and I hope these words reach you whether by your eyes or your friends'.

Everything feels like some kind of hyperrealistic dream sequence, and I keep half-expecting to wake up at any moment.

I also keep looking at my phone, hoping you'll text - call - to say you're sorry, it was a mistake and neither of us should have agreed to this, let's start over.

But who am I kidding? You're not this sort of person, and I know better than to think something like this might happen.

We dated for five months. You were surprised - apparently you didn't think we'd been seeing each other for that long. Was I wrong then, to have remembered? If I'd lied then, said I didn't remember, would it have made things easier?

You told me not to blame myself - I wonder if you blame yourself for this. You wanted more than I could give; I gave you less than you wanted to take. In the end we were both as selfish as the other, and this is both our fault a much as it is also neither.

You said we should break up. The biggest irony is that we were never together. We were never anything, but we were never nothing either, and that was something I could be content with. I didn't mind not being anything with you, because at least I knew we weren't nothing either.

But the sad thing is then that we never broke up. We just sort of ceased to be, and that seems even bleaker than it should be.

I suppose I should thank you though, for everything. We weren't enough where the other needed it, but I was happy with you, even though it was only for five months.

So thank you. I'm sorry we couldn't work it out, sorry we were never right for each other, but thank you.

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