Why we broke up [Editing]

When we go crashing down / We come back every time

I always find myself looking for some kind of reactions from you. I don't know if I'm trying to impress you, to prove how I'm better off now. Now that we're apart. I find myself laughing louder whenever you enter the room. I find myself smiling more and talking more.

I wonder if you know how much it's a lie and how much I hate having to do it.

How I hate not being over you, still.

I'm positive that I'm almost over you though. I don't know how but I know it. I know that it is time. It has been a long time since it "became time". You can't really force time to go slower nor can you force your mind, your heart and memory to heal faster.

But why. Why has it been so long? It's not like it was true love, even love for that matter. It wasn't sad, beautiful, tragic. It wasn't marvelous, fulfilling, life changing.

It was only two teenagers falling into a trap, something just like love. Jumped to conclusion that what they had was like the movies, like the songs and the poems. Jumping to conclusion because they wanted it to be love - somehow needed it to be love-. No one knows what they had. Ephemeral love story. Meaningless history. Nothing was more uncertain than the thing they shared, the secrets they exchanged and the lies they told. Nothing was more twisted than the love we shared. 'Cause darling it was us.

I realized the fool I made with this. This - the Why We Broke Up - not being over yet. Me not being already over your sorry self. And I realized that it brought me no more no less. I think I mostly hurt myself by doing this. Scratching open the scars and bleeding out the love. I wanted to be done with all of this.
It didn't brought me everything I have expected. I brought me a new vision on things less blurred by anger, somehow it put things into a new perspection.

After we stopped dating you were the first to complain about how we didn't do anything.
But we did do things.
We loved. We fought. We kissed.
We talked. We dreamed. I cried.

But you desired other things. More lustful, more sinful. You ached for other things. More flesh less thoughts.

But neither of us got what we wanted.
I wanted time. To move on from our first break up.
You wanted time. Not to be taken so seriously.

We didn't crave the same things. We didn't share the same thoughts. We didn't care the same way. We didn't live the same world.

But albeit we lived the same lie.

I didn't give it up to you and it upset you that you didn't have anything to go brag about. You didn't brag about the love we shared, it wasn't the kind of story you wished to tell between your hockey teammates and other guys friends.

I've heard about the saying «destroy what destroyd you» and for a long time I wondered how I could make you pay. But I got down to think it was pointless and that we'd end up just the same.

Delena said she had never heard me disrespect you until recently. She probably went deaf for a while because there is no chance on Earth that I have never dissed you. But I told her that plenty of others did the job better than I so why bother.

Recently, I thought that if I am my better self right now, maybe you are too. Maybe I do not give you enough credits. Maybe this is the greater you -let's hope it's not though, I mean-. Perhaps I've been wrong holding it all against you. I'm probably biased by the fact that I have loved you and it might cloud my judgment. Maybe when we were together I have encountered the worst of you now with new-found liberty you developed the best of yourself.

I don't really believe what I just said because who would? Who would dare to believe this is the best you can get. Surely you can do better. I don't expect miracles, I just wish I still could acknowledge this person as you, Michael. Not some made up stereotype of the guy that went wrong. Even some of your friends do not recognize you - at least some of mine-.

I must confess, I am ashamed of how we put our efforts in daydreaming trying to get a glimpse of our future. We put so much efforts in making our future perfect we neglected our present. We put all of our hopes in a so called future.

Which is obviously nonexistent. Or if not consists of exchanging glaces «by accident» - 'cause your the best in that department- . Looking somewhere else on purpose every time we cross path. Knowingly avoid each other in English class. Purposely avoid your name or kind of spitting it out.

And it amaze me how now and then a flash of memory pops in my brain and it is somehow always related to you. I still recall that your room was once painted in blue. I haven't forgotten about the fact that you had never made your bed - never put the sheets on your mattress though- or the fact that one day you were really fed up to sleep on the floor - with the mattress of course-so you built the base. I can still remember the «Tintin» in your brother's room and the fact that your favorite cat had died although I can't remember her name. I can still picture the smiley from apple stickers you made inside my locker. I still remember those insignificant details and I don't know what else to think about them.

So... I got drunk again some weeks ago. I realized the next day that I had almost not think of you. Well we did talk about you, Oliver said you were quite the party animal. I don't know why I defended you, saying you weren't like that when we met. He said he hoped so.

But besides that, you never crossed my mind again. It overjoyed me to see that alcohol made me forget about you. So I found myself craving for more of the feeling so that one day I won't even remember your name or what it meant for me...

I won't lie, it might have crossed my mind that you do it to forget about me too. But I doubt it, you're supposed to be over me.

But at the same time, you still make fun of me with your friends and all that stupid shit, so I don't know. I'm not sure where you stand.

With you I have never been sure.