Sometimes it's easier to pretend I don't care than to admit that it's killing me...
I don't get it. I've loved you more than half my life. Even if it sounds fucking cheesy... I'm not 15 anymore but I've known you since I was. I loved you from the first day. First time I saw you sitting in that corner. But you couldn't care less. Less about me, about everything I did for you, about everything and everyone I gave up for you. I gave you everything you wanted, everything you needed and everything I had. And you took it all. Took it, made it yours and never even considered where it came from, what I had to do to get it for you.
I just want to stop loving you. Caring for you. I need you to disappear. Just be gone. I should've never met you, never talked to you, never been there for you, never taught you, never supported you, never taken care of you when you got sick, never carried you when you couldn't walk, never held you when your son left, never... never... never...
What difference do words make? I don't want to talk anymore, I don't want to feel. Not for you. Nothing. Let me go.
But deep down I know nothing will change. I will always love you. Till you push me away again. Till I break again. And years later you'll come back and it'll all start over.
Death is the only permanent solution for my dilemma. And although I will not harm myself or you, I welcome it when it's time. I will not regret, ask for a longer life, be sad, or even try to avoid it. I will be glad this shit is over.
