I called someone love even when I knew it would hurt me. I called him love in spite of believing that there might be no happy ending.
It felt so natural.
It felt so real.
It felt like time and the universe made some sort of deal. Like they knew I would fall and allow myself to get hurt again. I called him love and he called me the same but that didn’t necessarily mean that we felt the same
That’s the problem, I have no idea, not one clue. No chance of ever knowing if every message you sent was true. Oh, did I mention your reactions to my social media posts was the first time I think I ever interacted with you. I knew you from before, I think I even tried to avoid you but I never knew I would have these kinds of conversations with you.
But I still wonder if you say the things you said to me to every girl you meet. Do you always try to make them fall for you or is it just stupid me who fell for it? Even so, I still freely fell. I kept falling even with all the doubts in my mind that kept racing.
Then I had the inkling feeling that I was starting to become annoying- or maybe it was really you- you just suddenly stopped trying. Then this was really all for nothing- why, why did you have to start something?
I guess it’s my fault for falling.
Hey, who am I to complain when I enjoyed every moment myself? Who am I to demand answers when I knew at the back of my mind, I just knew there must be someone else? Someone else you must really care for, someone else you must make time for. There must be someone else who wasn’t giving you the attention I so easily gave you.
I still allowed myself to miss you and I let myself fall even more for you.
So, this is my way of trying to say good-bye to the feeling and the person both “love” that was never mine. “Fun while it lasted,” is what everyone says- I wish, since that’s all I have these days, I just wish I could have ended us with at least one kiss.