When I met you, my life was a total mess. The kind of mess that makes you dread being asked about things. I knew you didn’t need that. I would have left him for you, had I known you loved me. Regardless of the consequences. But I would never want you to have to deal with my problems. What did I have to give you? Depression, anxiety, my problems, his drama, what else… I didn’t want to be anyone’s “project”, I’d rather handle my own shit first. You didn’t seem to mind me leaving when you saw me, even though I’m sure you understood it would be the last time. So I figured you wouldn’t mind me leaving for good. This shouldn’t be anything new to you. I’m sorry you don’t believe this truth, but I only have one.
I sought you out because I missed you. Selfish, I know. Maybe I just hoped you would come out and tell me that you never cared. Anything would be fine, any answer, but openly, to my face.
Why do you think I kept coming back? You think I couldn’t get ego boosts from anyone else all this time? Why did it have to be you? Why would I resort to tolerating your insults if that was all I wanted? Did I ever ask you for anything?
You see when you have even the smallest bit of suspicion in you that the person you fell in love with maybe loved you back one time, it’s not going to let you sleep at night until you find out for sure. And if you are not at least trying to find out, then you are lying to yourself, that’s how I see it.
Don’t worry though, I’m not trying to come back or start anything. Not unless you want the same, and I surely would not expect that from you. I will not “bother” you anymore. You never believed a single word I said, and you have no reason to start now.