I loved you deeply. I loved you when all seemed to go well. I loved you against all odds.
I loved you when we said we’ll see where this goes. I also loved you when you you wanted to end it all.
You continued to meet me. You wanted my company. You explained it was friendship minus the love.
But how can just one of us decide on that? Because I still loved you.
It was too late when I realized that you loved me too, but it was just selfish love. You loved until all your needs were met. You took and took but you never gave anything. I always thought I was supposed to be sacrificial and that you were going through a phase. But that wasn’t true. It wasn’t even a phase; it was just who you are.
You stayed and you sucked up everything out of me. You drew it all out and you left me empty. The only time you did something or cared was when it also benefited you, but you have never lifted a finger for me. You drew your boundaries so well for yourself, you ruptured mine, broke down those walls, made me seamless as if I were born to give, to sacrifice, to suffer and to endure.
Today you are gone. Your love is still bottled somewhere in my heart. But I don’t miss you. I’ll never miss anything about you, because you never did, expressed, or said anything. You’ve left nothing for me to miss. You never even had the guts to say ‘I love you’ because you could not commit. You barely scraped by saying ‘I like you.’ As much as it bothered me, all I thought was that when your phase passed, when the skies cleared and when the sun came out, it would all be fine.
I was traumatized, until I realized that “selfish people cannot love.”
It wasn’t the phase, it was just you. You can only love selfishly. It’s like a disorder.
For the first time in three years, after coming to that realization, I sighed and leaned back in my chair, thinking, “What a pitiful life that is so empty and void. When you cannot even feel a thing for others.”
You hurt me, but at least I’ll never be like you.