(no subject)
October 2, 2012
You often ask me why I love you. Truthfully (although I know you already know this), I hate the cheesy stuff. I hate it when you cry over me, because I am not worth those tears. I hate it when you ask me why I love you because I know the conversation will lead into my complete lack of being affectionate, but ultimately because I know in myself that I have no answer.
I often replied that love needs no reasons, and for the first few times you agree and nod your head, as if there is a certain truth in my words. But when you asked me for the last time yesterday, I was scared because I discovered the answer to your question way too late.
I’m sorry is what I last tell you. And probably the last you will hear from me. I’m sorry it ended too soon, too quickly, too badly with both of us too miserable, too weak, and too unforgiving.
I love you because I love you.