Cut

Why do I still bother to think of you? What is the purpose of such unfulfilling thoughts and feelings? Why do I fallow you, and put up such flimsy walls? The block button is a useless shield.

The fact is you stopped caring before you'd ever gotten around to telling me it was over. Such a short little romance. Your feelings so trite, so simple.

You were always talking about what you are. Passionate came up over and over again. So passionate that you burned out in just over a month. Used up and dry.

There is little purpose in this futile exercise I'm in engaging in. You'll never read this. You couldn't care less. And I do. Why?

Because it hurts to know that I was so completely fooled. I would have loved you. I would have tried to be a different me just to please you. And you never cared.

Not even for a moment. Not when you kissed me, or held me, or pitifully fucked me. You never cared that I would have turned myself inside out and upside down to be what you needed.

I look at you picture on the glaring screen and wonder why I cared? I look at the man sleeping next to me, his face barely seen, and it is even harder to understand.

When there was such love as this, as the one next to me in this instant, how could I ever have cared for you? Why am I still bothered?

Because you fooled me. Because you got me to lie to myself. Because you used me up and threw me away. And it cuts deep. As deep as love.