You only get to destroy that piece of me once.
See, here’s the thing, I loved you. More than you ever loved me, more than you ever will, and that’s OK. It’s how things usually work, someone always loves more.
I loved you more than I even understood. More than I thought possible. I still love you, but not like that, it’s not the same anymore, and it will never be the same again.
You get it, or you don’t. You don’t, which is why I write it here, the words are wasted on your ears.
There aren’t words to describe the pain of looking into your best friends eyes, your lovers eyes, your futures eyes, and hearing that you’re no longer important. That you are no longer needed, required, loved.
There are no words to describe the intensity of that moment. The humility, fear, pain, loss.
Words don’t do it justice. Something is taken from you in that moment. Something that you don’t ever quite get back. For a long time you feel ruined, and even after “fully recovered” it’s still gone. Whether you notice, or not.
You don’t get to do that more than once.
See, I want you, but I’m not giving in this time.