the book of heartbreak

day 29

He said he loved me, and it made me feel great.

I wanted to be his, and he wanted to be mine. It was as simple as that.

But that's the thing with love. Love is a strange thing. Sometimes you love a person without knowing what kind of love it is. Sometimes you love them as a best friend, or a mentor, or as something more—a partner for life.

He thought he loved me as a partner before realizing it was only as a friend.

He said that we were better off as friends because we were both happier then, and that's not true, because I wasn't in love with him then. Love can make you so happy, but it also has the power to tear you down within seconds until you're a sobbing mess at the foot of your bed at 2 am. It does that to people.

I just wish he would've realized before I fell. Before he flirted with me and played with my heart and broke it, asked for it back, then broke it even more. I just wish I didn't love him so much that I actually let him take me back.

Even though I knew that even if he broke my heart a thousand times, I'd still come back to him each time. And I hate myself for that.

Everything he does just makes me the happiest. He gives the best advice. He always knows how to cheer you up when you're upset. He also knows how to play with your heart then break it, and you'll always come back for him because you love him. As a partner, not just a friend.

And it will kill you when he calls you his best friend and you don't want to be reminded of it. You don't even want to be friends with him because every time you look in his eyes and watch him laugh with his friends you'll think to yourself, "That's what I could've had if I didn't screw up."

You don't want to see him love anyone else. You don't want to see him be happy if it's with someone else, as selfish as that may sound, because you'll always love him.

You'll love him so fucking hard that it breaks you every time he looks at you.