I can’t help but wonder, would we be any different had I told you exactly how I felt about you.
Maybe it was all just in my head that you cared about me.
I might have invented another you in my mind to make me feel a little bit better about liking, no, scratch that, loving you.
It sucks cause now I have realized that I have wasted so much time and energy on you.
Now I’m all out of both, left with nothing.
It’s rather depressing.
I just hate the fact that through all of the times of me being angry at you, cursing you out, crying over you, and etc., I couldn’t see that maybe I was just delusional, and I was putting myself through all of this.
I can’t keep doing this to myself, or I feel I might hurt myself even more than now.
So I am deleting your number, for the very last time, I am going to avoid you in any way possible.
Don’t take it personal.
It’s not you, it‘s me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem