I don’t even know where to start, but I feel like I need to say it, even if it’s to no one.
I wish I could look back at everything and say that I’m okay with how things turned out. That I’ve learned something, or that it all somehow makes sense. But the truth is, I’m still trying to figure it out. I’m still trying to understand how something that felt so right at the time turned out to be nothing more than a game of pretend. I know I’m not supposed to blame you—maybe it’s not even your fault—but I can’t help feeling like I was set up to fail.
I don’t know if I’ll ever stop asking myself how I didn’t see it sooner. How I didn’t see that all the things you said, all the promises, were just words. Empty. It’s funny how people can make you believe in something, and you don’t even question it until it all falls apart. Until you’re standing there, looking at the pieces, and wondering how you ever let it get this far.
I guess I just wanted you to be real. I wanted it to mean something, something that lasted. I thought maybe, just maybe, we could make it through everything. But now I realize I was holding on to something that was never really there. Maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe I just wanted it too badly to see that you were never the person I thought you were.
I can’t even say I regret it. Sometimes, even now, I can still feel those moments—the ones that felt so genuine, so full of hope. But they were just moments, weren’t they? A fleeting illusion that I let myself get lost in. And now, I’m left picking up the pieces, trying to figure out where I went wrong, or if I ever had a chance to begin with.
Maybe one day I’ll understand. Maybe I’ll look back and know exactly what happened, why it happened, and why I let it hurt so much. But for now, I’m just left here, with everything I thought I had, and nothing to show for it.
