"You don't care. You never did." They said, their voice a hoarse whisper, as the tears streamed down their face and the despair in their eyes was visible.
It was heartbreaking, really, to watch the happiness die from their eyes and realize in that moment that you caused it. You caused their happiness, and you caused it to die.
It's your fault that they're like this, I think to myself. And maybe it is. But I can't do anything about it. Because maybe they're right, I did stop caring for them, but that doesn't mean I stopped caring about them.
They still matter to me. Their happiness is still important to me.
But here's the predicament: they simply aren't worth writing about anymore. The love I thought we had faded away, and I couldn't stay in a place consumed by false dreams and fake love.
And the way I see it, that is caring. To care enough about someone to have to tell them you don't love them anymore just so that they don't have to continue drowning ashes in gasoline and hoping it will ignite a flame, seems to me like it is caring.
What I write about is really influenced by what I feel, and what I was too afraid to tell you was that I knew I didn't love you because I couldn't write about you. I could write about others and tell myself they were just a reoccurring thought and that I was writing about you instead, but those were lies and I knew it when I thought it.
You were not my first love. I gave up on my first love in pursuit of you, actually. Maybe that's my problem; I give up on those who love me most to take a gamble for those who might not love me back. But I cared for you for as long as my apparently cold heart could hold out, but sometimes you stop loving someone, not for anything they did, but because your heart simply wants to go a different direction. And I had to follow mine. You've turned our friends into your friends, and left me with only one. You made them pick sides in a war that was never fought, and I have every right to be angry for that.
But I'm not. I'm not mad at you for turning away from me, or lying to me and saying we'd still be friends, or taking those who I thought were my best friends and making them pick a side, which breaks my heart more than I could have ever broken yours.
You've moved on now, or so it seems, and I couldn't be happier for you. She chose your side in this Great Debate you've formed around us, and I hope you make each other happy, honestly.
I wish you the best in this journey of love, but I will not apologize for what I have supposedly done so rudely to you. Sure, I gave you your heart back, but I could have damaged it much worse than I did. I won't apologize for not hurting you like I could have. So I wish you the best, and my love goes out to the one who makes you happy; she has done more already than I could in the end.
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