Dear the Boy That Left, Twice.

I want you to know that I loved you, I still love you. Not the type of love that’s romantic either, the type of love that drives someone to the point of sanity and putting your happiness before mine. I’m sorry that it didn’t work out where you were and you felt the need to leave, I get you put yourself and your happiness first and I understand that now. But for two years I let you walk all over me, and take all my love with you were ever you went. I can’t hate you for what you did; my friends tell me that I should. But I fucking can’t and now I hate myself for it. I’m at the point where I don’t want to lose you, but maybe loosing you is the best thing for you. This has been a whirlwind of shitstorms since this started and it took me until the second time for me to realize. Maybe deep down you do still care, and part of you wanted to stay but just couldn’t. I’m proud of you for doing what you need to be doing for yourself, and getting yourself out of the rut you were in. But, don’t forget I was there for you when you had no one and supported you through everything. And you decided the best way to thank me was to push me away, I even started to miss the excuses you came up with after I didn’t hear from you for nearly three weeks. And I always forgave you, because life happens but your life was too busy for me. And you made new friends and then I was pushed away again. Maybe one day you’ll sit back and realize you fucked up for the second time, and maybe by that point I won’t be sticking around for a third time.