Another Number Counted.

what am i to you anymore.

What am I to you? An object?

A possession?

All this time I thought you were everything, you were special you were unique, you were different. With you I can talk freely, with you I can joke around and it wouldn’t be awkward or weird or even embarrassing, with you I can relate and you were the only person ever to understand me, you were a role model, an escape from reality.

The only person who could make me happy.

The only person who could compliment me and not sound like you’re faking it just to make me feel better.

And I thought we had a strong relationship – something that is beyond anything else.

You were my role model, someone I always looked up to, someone I can ask for advice form, and someone who will make me feel better regardless of anything else. Someone who I have disappointed several times yet, it didn’t bother him, he continued this constant need for affection.

You always portray yourself in such a good light, showing your love and passion for other people, for children and elderly, your love for humans and your passionate desire to help everyone around you.

But maybe I’ve viewed you in a different spotlight. There is no doubt that you still care about these people, but the doubt is with me.

Never would I have ever thought in my entire life that one day all this might be wrong, all this is false, and it was all a game. Never would I have thought that I meant nothing to you, that I was merely an object you can mess about with.

For once in my life I though and hoped that you’d be different that maybe you give me a different hope and view of life, you gave me hope that maybe there are people out there who are loving as you are.

But I don’t know what went wrong. You made me believe that I was special – that I would be able to be treated differently by someone at last. You were just too good to be true.

You just never understood my need for you, my temptation for you, all this time you might have thought that everything I said to you was a joke, part of me tells me it’s not a joke but you remind me that it is.  

I crave every part of you and even when you hurt me and offend me – I take it lightly and never would I get upset with you. Because I can’t. Because you’re so angelic.

I miss you. And I miss all our times where we spent nights and hours after 9 pm just talking and messing about no idea what the other one is talking about, yet going with the flow, yet making everything work, then at the end of our nights we would both say we didn't mean what the other was saying, that we were both kidding, joking, messing about.

Yet I remind myself that I meant every word, that I needed him.

But I was nothing. Absolutely nothing to you, a sexual object, a toy, a game where you decide who wins and who losses.

But now that I realize it, it makes more sense, everyday it makes more and more sense.

The fact that you never actually make proper conversation with me in school, you don’t let me touch you yet I see you hugging girls and twirling them around- your excuses are lame.

You put me in a world of fantasy, you trapped me in an ideal world of love and you defined the whole meaning of passion to me. How could you do this to me?

How could you simply just let go everything that made up my world. Now I have a false view of the world, I’m a complete mess, a depressed mess.

At least pretend you cared.