All good things come to an end. The most painful part is, we didn’t even have a thing. Or at least to you, we didn’t. I, on the other hand, saw myself holding on to a thin, fragile piece of thread that was sometimes even unseen. I was previously played, abused and made a fool out of by my former flame that I swore falling in love altogether. But, boy, you were wildfire. And I would have become someone with a heart reduced to charred bits had someone not pulled me out of the furnace that was you.
The times I did see that piece of thread were those times you gave me promises – promises pregnant with love and fulfillment – or so it seemed. I was the best friend you’ve ever had, you said. You gave me a part of yourself you swore you would never give anyone else. I had my guard way up high, and that helped me put everything you said into a box I called ‘friendship.’ That stopped me from assuming, from expecting. But that didn’t stop you from creeping into my heart.
To you, everything was out of the norm. That was how it was for me, too, in the beginning. Later on I found myself looking for you even when I had no reason to, missed you more than I should. Every one else faded in comparison to how special you became to me. Then it started to hurt. And suddenly, all the love songs were about you. All the quotes, all the stories.
You seemed to not be in the know of the consequences of your actions. But I think you did, and you just didn’t care about the consequences no matter how many times you’ve seen them, because you were enjoying every moment women cherished your presence, threw themselves at you and asked for your attention. You did. You do. Then they fall in love and you can’t love them the same and guilt creeps up on you because “you never saw it coming.” Oh, please. You so saw it coming. But until the wounds weren’t deep enough to create a scar you just wouldn’t stop. If you were so concerned about them falling for misunderstood actions you should’ve stopped treating women the way only a boyfriend would treat the love of his life. Stopped treating them like they’re the only one you see because sooner or later they will realize that you do not really love them, that you never will, and that it was never a possibility, and it will hurt. Like. Hell. Stop. Just stop.
But, thank you. Thank you for making me feel like I was the most important person to you – even if I really wasn’t. Because of that I’ve come to realize that your love couldn’t stop me from going on with my life, because that love doesn’t exist. I’m going to follow Ed Sheeran’s advice and keep this love in a photograph. And that is all it will ever be. A photograph. A memory. Ours wasn’t even romance. And this is my goodbye.