I knew from the very beginning that
I would never be enough for you, and I mean that in the sincerest of ways. It
was honestly selfish of me to accept your love when deep down I’m sure I knew
we weren’t going to go anywhere far. I didn’t see your true potential, and I
threw logic in hopes and dreams. It felt like you knew me, but the truth is I
never really opened up to you. I hadn’t really gone past the surface. I only
gave you a glimpse of my past or my anxiety because I’m full of stories I won’t ever speak of.
I always label my pessimistic as
being a realist. I realize I never even wanted to talk about the insignificant
things like my childhood memories and my silly antics. I knew we weren’t what
each other needed, and that we could survive pretty well without each other
existence. Maybe you thought that I’m just really guarded, where in reality I’m
just cold, with a heart that is incapable to love anymore.
I accidentally hurt a lot of people
along with way, and you are going to be one of them. I should never felt
relieve each time a date ends, if I truly loved you, I should have been happy
to see you, to be excited over your existence – but the truth is each time I
find happiness, you were never in the picture. And maybe I’m like the minimal
percentage of the world population destined to be alone forever.