My Writing

When I look at you I hurt. I hurt because of the things I felt in your presence, and because you were this amazing person. This amazing person, gone sour. The beginning was pristine, perfect in every possible way. But you've changed. And I have changed. And probably for the worse, but maybe for the better. I do not know. All that I do know is that my life is a pile of shambles, banging against the desk, asking for a solution, a quick fix, anything to get out of tumultuous times. I love you though. Why do you not feel the same towards me?

If only you could look at me once more, with every loving passion that you had felt before, once. I remember it, clearly. It was perfect. And I loved you. And you loved me. And it was perfect.

And then you messed up. I forgave you, for how could I not, how could I risk losing the only person that I cared for in my way? I loved you. And you tore that to pieces and made my life a living hell. I loved you anyway. In my eyes you could do no wrong. Our song would play in the future, but you stayed in the past, while I sat in my chair, staring absently at what was present. I hate you. I do not really, but I hate what you did. You were everything to me. No you weren't. But I thought you were. And you proved me wrong. Congratulations.

Still, memories are always bittersweet, and you, darling are the most. I will always love you, but now you just are not worth the price that I paid. I gave you the sweat of my brow, and the tear on my cheek. And it was not all in vain. You gave back to me, but you did not mean it. Not how I did. Misunderstood. I love you, but I will forget you.