17/11/21, Wednesday.
Yesterday didn't really happen, did it? It was a fever dream. It has to be a fever dream. I just can't decide if meeting you or breaking up with you is the part I regret most.
If ending things were for the best, why do I still miss you every single second. It's only been 12 hours without you. Does it get any easier? I'm seeing you tomorrow at work, are you going to look like a mess like me? Half of me hopes you do, but the other half prays that you're okay, that you're not going through the pain I am.
Deep down I know you're fine, you never did show me any emotions lately besides anger. I got used to only feeling fear and desperation around you. What happened to the butterflies you forced me to feel.
They died with your acting. They flew away with your care for me. The care that was never there. I would of said love, but I know you never felt it. It always was me that felt to quickly, deeply, openly.
You maimed me to the point of me loosing every piece of myself.
Was it a mistake or did it bring you joy? I thought you made me happy but I still spent nights awake trying to decode your cryptic messages. Were your walls built up so high for her, or was it just for me?
You made it impossible for me to break them down. I resorted to trying to climb over them, knowing dam well I'm terrified of heights.
Loosing you scared me more.
