Over the last week I’ve been going through all our old messages and saving what I want and will need in the future, because I am nothing if not sentimental. But I also know I can’t talk to you anymore. You can tell people it’s because I read too much into things or that I was just being a stupid girl or whatever it is you need to say to rationalize this, but I hope you know that isn’t the truth.
Because you can say what you want about how it doesn’t sound like you to have told me you love me, but you’ve said that to me every day without using those words. Every time you said something dumb to try to make me feel better and every time you double and triple texted me because I wasn’t responding and every time you told me how much you valued me and every time you told me something you didn’t tell anyone else and every time you asked me to do something and followed it up with, “but you don’t have to,” even though you wanted me to and especially every time you purposefully got me to roll my eyes while laughing at you because “that’s my favourite thing you do.”
And I said it back every time I asked you to text me when you got home and every time I told you something I never told anyone else and every time I asked you to call me because I needed to hear your voice and every time I set my phone on silent but kept your ringer on high when I was falling asleep in case you needed to talk to me during the night and every time I wore something I knew you liked when I was going to see you and especially every time I stayed because you asked me to.
Whether or not you want to admit it, I was emotionally supporting you as a girlfriend for a long time, and I was okay with that until you stopped talking to me. And it’s because you stopped talking to me that I realized I love you, too. Because I reached for you every time I needed someone to cheer me up or needed a phone call or any of those things above that I had come to rely on you for, and you weren’t there. That reflex to talk to you every time something happened, whether good or bad or just something that reminded me of you, killed me when I had that second thought of, “He doesn’t want to talk to you.” And you never really even apologized for it.
But what really bothers me is how we went from some gray area between friends and something else to not talking for two months to you asking me questions that toed our boundary lines to this. It wasn’t a big leap from where we were to something else, so I followed your lead just like every other time and we made a mess. Of our friendship, of our chances for something beyond that, and of my capability to trust anyone the way I trusted you.
I don’t need you to be sorry about any of this because I’m not realistically losing anything. But you are. So I’m sorry for leaving, and honestly, I hope this helps you realize something for the next person, because you are so amazing and a great person to have in someone’s life. But I’m done.