Can't do This Anymore
By Kurofsky
She loves him, but she can't do this anymore.
She can't imagine life without him loving her, but she just can't do this anymore.
She understands only now—they were never meant to be. He was a player and he'd only go on to b r e a k her heart in the end. She's looking out for herself and she's not about to have her heart shattered into a million pieces just because she was dumb enough to stick around. She loves him, but she loves herself more.
She gets it, why he's doing this. Why he's quick to push her away and call her a b.i.t.c.h when he's drunk. Why he likes to go to the popular clubs all the time and flirt and dance and smush with all those other girls. Why he's perfectly guiltless when he finds himself passed out on the floor with lipstick stains all over his face and his chest and a slut lying on the bed besides him, knowing that she was hurting inside, and not giving a damn.
He likes the attention. He likes the feeling of importance, of being wanted by hundreds of other girls, of knowing he could have any girl he wanted. He likes being able to juggle multiple girls, easily replaceable with no risk of him loosing.
He probably wouldn't even care about losing her.
He keeps breaking her heart over and over again and it's just not worth it. She loves him and she loves them, but she's b r e a k i n g and they're b r e a k i n g and it's just not working anymore.
They're done.