You went after me despite the fact my dad hated you.
I remember how your embrace felt like going home.
But years after….everything changed.
“I love you.”
You used to tell me this every day.
Yet you never showed it.
Like a broken record.
Maybe it was me.
Maybe it was you.
Maybe I just assumed you were telling the truth.
“I love you"is kinda overused.
Like the time you said I was the only one.
But you had another girl thinking she was the only one too.
Or the time you said “I love you” but after that you would constantly make me cry.
Honestly I loved you a lot.
But I guess it was only my heart telling the truth.
You loved the worst parts of me.
And I did love you that way too.
But I had to let you go.
Sometimes we pretend we don’t see the truth in order to drown out the hurt.
We assume the hurt is okay because we’ll rather feel this way than lose each other.
But I’m sorry.
Loving you made me unlove myself.
I want to forget you.
I want to rip you off the page of my book.
There will always be a gap in between chapters.
But hey at least you’re no longer in it.
— The Beauty of Goodbye // Conee Berdera