Maybe you and I weren't meant to last. Maybe I denied that fact when we first got together. Maybe, just maybe, I didn't care. I loved you enough to turn a blind eye to the fact that one day you would break my heart. I know I did. My love for you knew no bounds, but your love for me was terminable. Your love for anything was terminable.
Was it my fault? Could I have somehow driven you to shatter my heart? I hope not. I hope that whatever made you do it was your own creation. Or at least, that's what I tell myself. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me.
I never believed you either. And apparently, you never believed in me. For if you believed in me, would you have honestly done what you did? If you believed in our love, would you have still broken me? I want so badly to know that you wouldn't have. I guess what we've learned from this is that I know next to nothing about you. If I knew about you, I would like to believe that I would've never gotten involved with you.
Lying to myself about you is becoming a habit.
You loved me. You still love me. I know you loved me. We believed in each other. You would've done anything for me.
Lies.
You loved me.
Lie.
You love me.
The biggest lie of them all.
Why did you even tell me that? Why did you give me drugged words? They felt so nice for a while, and then they made me ache for more, more that you never gave. You couldn't follow through. You never finished what you started. You just stopped. It's not the same thing. One hurts and the other doesn't. One stings and the other doesn't. One happened and the other didn't. One killed me and the other didn't.
I want to hate you. I wish I could hate you. But I can't. I can't hate you and I don't know why. I have every right to want to kill you. I have every right to want your death. Yet, somehow, I find myself wishing you would come back. Wanting you, no, needing you to come back home, to come back to me.
I wish I didn't need you. I wish you didn't lie to me. I wish you didn't leave me. I wish I knew how to quit you. I wish you didn't know how to quit me. Oh, Dallas Winston, I wish you didn't know how to quit me.