We broke up in mid-July. We sat in your car, parked at the end of my street. I asked “Honestly, do you still want this?” I already knew your answer, but waited for your reply of no, which you didn’t hesitate to say. You said you felt this way for a while, but with everything going on in my life you didn’t know when to tell me. You then said “I’m surprised you aren’t crying, I expected you to cry. I’m really sorry.” Little did you know I was holding back my tears like a flood gate. We sat there, looking at each other, saying nothing. But It was that kind of nothing that meant everything. I said I hope we can be friends, you agreed, and then I got out of your car and walked home.
It seemed that we always had a toxic relationship, that kind that you read about in books. “Two depressed teenagers find love,” type of books. I saved your life physically, and you saved mine mentally. You were the sunshine on my cloudy days for such a long time. I loved everything about our relationship, whether it be walking your dog, watching funny videos together on your bed, watching you play video games, dinner with your family, I loved it all. I loved listening to you talk about what was wrong, and I loved it even more when I could fix the problem. I loved the way you fixed my problems with a hug and a kiss. We understood each other, we understood exactly what we were both going through, no questions asked, and we both needed that.
Something changed, one day you didn’t look at me the same way. One day you stopped kissing me the same way. One day you stopped liking me the same way you once did. One day I realized this, and it tore me to pieces. I got depressed, those once sunny blue skies now had clouds again. I wasn’t sure what to do, if it was me that changed, or if it was you. Was it my new medications that made me different? Or was it yours? I tried everything I could to keep it normal, to keep you happy, but it wasn’t me that was making you happy. You became distant, different, you were not the same boy I loved to watch while he smiled, or threw his head back while he laughed.
That went on for another month before it became too much for me. We had been through prom, graduation and me moving across town. I barely saw you, heard from you, or knew about what you were doing. I do remember you saying you weren’t going to see your friends often when we all left for college. That’s when I knew I wasn’t going to be in the picture for much longer.
I finally got ahold of you long enough to get you to stop by in mid-July. We broke up that day, and I wish I could’ve told you that I loved you, but I had no idea I did until you left. I had no idea I loved you until I cried for days, until I had nosebleeds from crying so hard, until I laid in bed for days and only got out of bed to go to work. I still cry, six months later, I think of you when my phone buzzes, hoping it’s you telling me that you miss me, but it never is. Six months later, and those clouds now produce storms. But that’s the thing about breakups, one person leaves feeling relieved and the other falls to the floor not knowing how to go on.
I wish I could’ve told you that I loved you, but I didn’t know I did until you left.
