I knew you don't see me that way. And I don't blame you for choosing not to spare my feelings. I k ow that this is what you felt and you don't pull punches when you tell the truth, even with others. I'm not mad.
I'm hurting and mad, okay. Sure.
But I guess I'm more mad at myself.
I should have walked away when I had the chance, when I still felt free. (I don't anymore; I feel so attached.) I should have held back when it was easy. (I can't anymore; I feel trapped in bad habits of taking care of somebody, anybody, even if it's not you.)
Most of all I'm angry at myself. Because I'm not good enough. Because I behave the way I do, and it's not what you want. Because I speak and write and act and live like I do, and that's not good enough.
I'm upset at myself because "being myself" was what went wrong. Because I never knew you were not happy with how I did things. Because I failed to recognize my shortfalls.
I'm upset at myself because I am so concerned and worried about what you think, that I lost track of what I need. Because I was trying to suit your needs, I lost sight of mine. Because I gave all I had, and I forgot that I shouldn't care so much about what people think, and try as i may, I still give too much of a damn about your thoughts, opinions, wants, needs, of me. It crippled me and held me back from expressing this deep passionate affection that swallows me whole everyday.
Because I went ahead and had feelings for you. And my life, while so much better with you, isn't real.
It's just a dream. It's just borrowed time. It's just a passing phase.
I'm still working on becoming the best version of me possible. Day after day, I make the slow changes for improving myself in ways that last.
I know when the dust settles I'll be great. I'll be amazing. And I'll be proud of myself.
But I'm worried I'll be without you. That you'll be with someone else and I'll be alone. And after what I heard, this weekend, I feel it's more of a certainty, than mere worrying.
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