This story probably won't have a happy ending.
I'm sorry, but I just need to get this out of my system.
He knew as much about me as I would ever tell anyone. Hell, I'd probably tell him more.
I trusted him more than people I had known since Kindergarten and I'd only known him for about two years. Actually, less than that.
There had been many guys in my life that I felt I had truly loved. I was so convinced that I needed them and we were meant together but after each one left me broken hearted and in a sense, crying in a corner, I realized that I was so incredibly wrong. I'd always been more understanding and thoughtful than most of my other friends. I knew what had to happen and how to get there. I'd had one boyfriend my entire life and yet, everyone came to me for advice on basically everything. I could always help everyone except myself.
You could say it was a weakness.
There was always something so incredibly entrancing about him. I can't even say name right now because it hurts so much and to me, it will just linger in the silent air encircling me. I'll get lost in the thoughts that I'm trying to keep locked up behind the brick wall in my mind.
He wasn't always who he is now. At least, that's what our friends say. Our. Between me and him, that word no longer exists. He used to be shy and thoughtful. He used to care about other people. I mean, he was never the way I am with people. Fuck, he was never the way I am. He's quiet and only talks when he has something important to add to a conversation or he's directly spoken to. Something changed after I met him at the beginning of this semester. I met him right before everything happened and in a way, I guess I'm grateful, but at the same time, it's torture for me. It's like.. I know the old him is inside of him hidden away behind the cold interior's exterior.
I wish he would have let me in farther.
Maybe then I could have realized what was going on before it was too late.
I should have known and expected what happened. I should have known. But right now, that's not the point.
Actually, I don't even know what the point is. He used to make me so happy and I know I made him happy. It was never the way I wanted too. I wanted to take his pain away but I think only he can do that. I hate that. I hate not being able to help him. He called me a drama queen the other day. I'm guessing that's because I screamed, begged, pleaded, cried, wailed, everything that's possibly pathetic, for him to not hurt me. To not erase me from his life.
He was the first guy that I ever truly needed. I can't go a single day without thinking about him for more than an hour altogether. Hell, that's a lie. I can't go for more than 8 hours altogether without thinking about him.
I loved him. It's as simple as that and despite what I say about love being non-existant, I don't think I've ever been broken as bad before. I can handle a lot. But I can't handle… I don't even know. I miss him more than anything and I just.. I want him to hold me and tell me that everything will eventually be better.
But that can't happen when I'm dead to him.