I love you. Ever since we started talking. Since you opened up to me. Since you started letting me in, into your incredible life. To me, you were so experienced, done and seen so much.
I remember how I felt. The first time I told you that I was in love with you. And how you said you didn’t love me back. If you did, you wouldn’t agree to not speaking for one week.
Fuck. I love you okay.
I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to hug you, kiss you, love you, cuddle with you. You were my greatest weakness.
You were never really even there for me. You never acknowledged me as your partner. Yet I was addicted, to you.
It’s not because I am totally comfortable around you and feel like I could tell you everything. I don’t. In fact, whenever we speak, especially about my career, my aspirations in life, I’m always so terrified. I’m anticipating that you would shut me down, that it wouldn’t impress you. I know I sound dumb to you. I’m not. I’m really not. I lose my confidence when I’m with you. I let you walk all over me, and own me.
Yet, everything was so intense. So real. So painful. So good. You were responsible for my adrenaline rushes. You made me crazy. I can’t even really put it into words.
I somehow convinced myself that you do love me, and are scared. Scared of letting people in. And because you pushed me away but telling me you don’t love me back, told me to leave, so I did, I lost your confidence in me. You no longer believe that I will stay. That I will always be there. Ugh. It’s so painful. I keep thinking about the life we could have had. That we could have had it all.
I wanted to make you feel my love.