Yesterday I caught myself wondering how long it had been since I last kissed and saw him. Then, cowardice ruled between us. I spent sleepless nights crying, thinking only of the good times I'd gone through with him. I promised myself I wouldn't disturb anybody else with that issue, that I would get over him all by myself, and I really did. It took me tears, it took me self-hatred, it took me my time. But I moved on. I'd better believe so, rather than blaming on myself for something I'm pretty sure whose the fault was.
The first two weeks were filled with the tears I used to cry out of fear. I sank, got drowned, digged and went the deepest anybody has ever been, but I found strenght to emerge, to go back to when I was the expert at feeling well. And when you saw me with a true smile you couldn't bear it. You pretended you wouldn't care about it, but you deeply did. And you couldn't stand seeing me happy again, after taking my sorrow for granted.
Now I truly hate you. That was what you really taught me well. You thought I'd always be there for you, that I'd always love you, that I'd always miss you, but you were very wrong. You've got everything you need, every people you want, all the jewelry you can afford, but you don't have me. You know I still feel get sad when I'm close to you, but what gets you sadder is knowing my sadness goes away as soon as you fade away, as if by magic. And what makes me happier is knowing you'll never ever have me. Never again.
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