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My ego just suddenly mattered and didn’t matter that much all at once. It
didn’t matter because I was fine with telling myself that I was wrong and that
I made a mistake. But it mattered because right at this moment I was facing
myself by my need to stop making that mistake. To honor myself and my
heart enough. To stay away from the things that hurt me, the ones that hurt
me. To stay away from you.
I loved you and I believe that love is never a mistake. Even after all that
happened. The mistake, however, is me being ready to go the extra mile
for that love while it wouldn’t even move an inch.
The mistake was that I let myself care for you while you did nothing but hurt
me.
I let you use my feelings, use the fact that you knew I loved you for your
interest even if it meant it was for my bad. The love that I thought would
make me strong, you made it be my weak point, my flaw, my unforgiven sin.
I wish you said you didn’t love me. I wish you made it easier. I wish you
closed the door. But you didn’t. Each time I thought I could leave, you came
back. Sometimes only with a smile but you knew that smile would do it. It
wouldn’t let me go. And I let myself forget each time that behind this smile
there is going to be a dark hell. Of me being underappreciated. I let myself
hope that maybe you have changed, maybe you have known my worth.
I was wrong maybe because as I felt that you enjoyed the idea of me loving
you, I enjoyed just the space of being around you.
I was wrong maybe. To love and accept a love way less than mine. To think
that maybe this is all I deserve. Maybe I should be over the moon with your
cold tone and cold hands and you saying I love you without ever looking into
my eyes, without ever meaning it because at least I was around you.