You went after me despite the fact my parents hated you. I remember how your embrace felt like going home. And our fingers interlaced as you whispered the sweet letters that our mouths etched into. We were the young lovers kissing under a rainstorm.
I noticed that you meant every word you said. So I joyfully gave you my heart.
But years later, everything changed. “I love you” was something you used to tell me every day. Yet now you never showed it. It sounded like a broken record. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was you. Maybe I just assumed you were telling the truth. “I love you” is kind of overused. Like the time you said I was the only one, but you had another girl, thinking she was the only one too. Yet despite a few ‘I love you’s’ you would always make me cry my eyes out. And the world that looked warm and red suddenly seemed cold and blue. For I gave you every piece of my heart and I stayed true. Yet you broke me like I meant nothing to you.
So now I realized that it was only my heart telling the truth. But sometimes we pretend that we don’t see the truth in order to drown out the hurt. We assume the hurt is okay because we’d rather feel this way than lose each other. But I’m sorry. Loving you is a storm I can no longer partake in.
So cease the lie that you love me. Because I love myself enough to say that I deserve better than tears and a broken heart. I wish you all the best, but I’m sorry. This is the chapter where I have to stop loving you, even if I don’t want to.