He can say whatever he wants to me. To himself. To his family.

It makes no difference.

He says he loves me. He can't live without me. I know the truth.
He only thinks he loves me.
In all honesty, he doesn't.
He thinks he couldn't handle not being with me.

It's a lie.

He mistook dependence for love, and dragged me with him for the ride.
He could go the rest of his life without ever kissing me. Without holding me. Without hearing or saying 'I love you.'

That's not love.

What he truly couldn't handle, was not his love being lost. As much as he talked about it.
It was the fact that I shut the door, that he walked out of.

...Then threw away the key.