We were never meant
to be. But, despite the self-blame, the sense of responsibility I feel for our
future, the searing guilt, the nagging feeling that I somehow did you wrong,
the truth is, we were never meant to be. I
agonized over whether or not I led you on. Had I accepted one too many
compliment, reluctantly flirted back a few too many times? Had my playful
teases fallen on deaf ears? Maybe, I shouldn’t have flirted.
I’ve to admit that I expressed my disinterest subtly, but
plainly. Still, you remained oblivious to the signs that lingered right in
front of you, dangling over your head and straight between your eyes. You
reached out to me with gusto, hoping you would eventually connect with me, but
I remained distant, refusing to respond to your persistent inquiries about us.
Your presence was cloying; suffocating me. In your
insistence in constantly inserting yourself into my life, squeezing yourself in
like a puzzle piece that will never fit. Your unending spate of attention you
showered upon me at the most inopportune times, when I was attempting to run
from you. You were simply being kind, so why was I ignoring you? You were just
being complimentary, so why couldn’t I take compliment? You were only being
affectionate, so why didn’t I seem to miss you?
That moment when we take our relationship a step back, I
knew we will never work; but I’ve learned to live with the guilt that it was entirely
my fault. A-l-l-of-t-h-e-m from the time I decide to swipe right.