Even though I had never loved before, apart from child-like crushes on television characters and the like, I am pretty sure I loved him. I wanted him. I needed him. So now I sit here, alone by choice, and I wonder quite seriously, if there is a greater design to this all. Being agnostic I
I can't expect...I don't have the right to expect to be friends. I know this. I forget sometimes that whilst I may have fallen out of love with you, you didn't fall out of love with me. And that all just sounds so terribly self-absorbed and obnoxious that it's almost to putrid to write. But sometime's, and especially lately, my thoughts haven't been born in flowers and sunshine. I sometimes wish you had never found me at all so I would never this. See? There I go again. Being selfish and vain and self-centred. I would never have to feel this. I. But there's a you in this too. A you who is moving interstate to get away from the me that couldn't love him the way he loved me. Does he have more of a capacity to love than me? Perhaps. Perhaps I did love him as much as I was capable of, and initially that was enough. But how can I (selfish once again), stay with him, pretending as I was, just in the hopes of providing him with just enough reassurance of false promises and love to tide him by. I can't. I couldn't. I won't.
So sometimes, those of you who have been dumped, just spare a thought for your dump-er. The person who had to dump you. God no! I can almost hear you say. Why the hell should I spare a thought for that thoughtless bastard/bitch? (Those of you who remained friends, congrats...you're a rare few). I'll tell you why. Because, all being said, it may be harder to break another's heart than your own. To know that you will have to damage another human being one whom you may have shared a deep friendship with. I don't think you can damage another without damaging yourself in the process.
So whilst he may move on hating me, at least hate is easier to forget than regret. Yes, regret is the gnawing, gut clenching feeling that keeps you awake at night. Regret seeps into every little thought and hope with the constant
Why?