Something about you.

There's something about you that turns me into something I'm not, *Adam. I don't know what it is or why it occurs but every time I see you I make an ass out of myself. Sometimes, I think I just want to hurt you as badly as you hurt me, but I know I can't. Because you, unlike me, were quick to disregard your feelings towards me as all the time we spent together is now in vain. You packed up and high tailed it the hell out of my life, leaving behind the tears and the begging and the things I'm ashamed to say I did, trying to get you back. I told myself, *Adam, that you left me because I wasn't pretty enough, I wasn't skinny enough, I didn't have enough time for you. There was something wrong with me because I didn't live up to your expectations. But after I stayed awake for hours on end and sobbed to you, I realized that no matter how much weight I lost and how many times I pleaded, you never felt the same way I did. And even though I'm perfectly happy now, and you ever so rarely cross my mind, I wonder how I could hate you so much and still feel weak when I see you. You took something away from me what I still cannot place my finger on. A hell of a lot of lunches were discarded, that's for sure. About seventeen thousand gallons of tears, in addition. A large portion of my self esteem, even. But to this day there's some hold on me that you have and I don't know if it's consciously or not, but you refuse to let go. You or I, I'm not sure. Trust me, I'm trying. I have everything I could want, including an amazing boyfriend who would slay dragons for me, and still I see you and I feel the need to say something; to ask why, to shake you with all of my strength and ask you why you tricked me into falling so madly in love with you that I couldn't even pick up the pieces when you broke me. I don't know, *Adam. And I'm done trying to figure you out. Although you'll never read this, bye, kiddo. Have a nice evening.