You were, by far, the love of my life. When it came to extraordinary, all-consuming, inconvenient love, you definitely had me.
You showed me a glimpse of what love was, but then you took it away just as quickly.
You gave me the best times of my life, but you also gave me the worst.
I never knew what a completely happy memory was. Anytime something was going good, you'd ruin it.
You made me see how temperamental a man’s ego can be, and you made me realize how fragile my self-esteem was. I realized that not everyone can be trusted, even those closest to you.
If I wasn't lifting you up, you were tearing me down, and that became our normal. As much as I tried to support you, it was never enough. You needed more assurance than I could give you.
And without getting any in return, my light faded. And that was too much.
Loving you was never easy, but leaving you was.
I had to learn to stand up on my own, and find a way to move on from the biggest heartbreak I’ll probably ever experience. I finally realized that love isn’t always black and white– there are shades of gray that can consume you, making it hard to ever explain.
When I look back, I see that you simply just never cared enough. And that’s the root of it, isn’t it? You didn’t care enough to fight for me.
So you continued to push me away until I didn't come back.
This love was hard, and I know now that only the best loves are difficult.
But what separates what we had from what I'll have in the future, is that when I love someone, if it's right, leaving would never be easy.
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