Hello. I miss you, the way you used to be, the way you used to smile at me; before you thought it was safe for you to act like you didn’t care, before it was safe for you, period.

It was never safe for me. I didn’t dare ask. How could I? You made me feel I was living on borrowed time with you, that I didn’t even had the right to ask you for the time of the day. WTF.

I tried. I swear I did. I tried, took several deep breaths and told myself “it’s all for the greater good”, but somehow along the way I found out there was no safe ground with you.

Was I just a game? Who the FUCK knows at this point. What people — and I mean MY friends for that account — know about you is that you’re one hell of a threesome-fixated, egotistical asshole. Whoa, you’ve clearly made an impression. Big one. They saw me cry because of you, and at this point have even learnt to hate you. Imagine that. The group of friends you wanted to have too now hate you because of how you behaved with me, TO me.

It does seem unfair. But the thing is, I also call the unfairness of you keeping me for yourself for months without giving me any sort of insurance. You knew I had no idea how to do this. You knew I’d never had a boyfriend before. You knew I was just starting. And you fucking decided it was a good idea to break my heart like it didn’t matter. Like I wasn’t worth an honest talk before like you didn’t trust me.

I FUCKING TRUSTED YOU. I went to a strange city where I knew nobody and gave you the opportunity to fucking kill me if you’d wanted to. No one would’ve stopped you. You had all the cards. That’s how much I trusted you. Nevermind the fucking piano you own at home. Nevermind I seem to fill your egotistical needs. Nevermind anything. I gave you the upper hand and you tore everything apart.

WHY?!

Don’t come and pretend this is all my fault. I gave you what you wanted, didn’t I? What the fuck MORE do you want?! You’re killing me here.

What do you need? Do you want to break me until there’s nothing left of me, is that it? Congratulations, you’ve made it. You’ve burnt and exhausted me completely. There’s nothing left. I literally saw the pieces fall one by one until there was nothing left. Until all the crashing sounds were done. Until there was no more ME left and it was all about you.

You killed me. You broke me and you weren’t even there to help me pick up the pieces. I’ve never EVER hated someone like I hate you now.

It’s not fair, Andrea! It’s not fair to get my hopes up in the sky with a wonderful and romantic date to then ship me on the first train home the day after when all I ever needed was a fucking hug. I just wanted a bit of love, how was that wrong? HOW WAS THAT WRONG?!

I can’t. I give up. You see me now, giving up, as all there’s left of me hurts and screams in protest. But what can I do? I shouldn’t have to ask you to kiss me. I shouldn’t have to ask you to hug me. But somehow you wanted me to beg, is that it?

I can’t. I’m not cut out for it. I’m not strong enough. This is me, with all the insecurities I have. And I just can’t. I. Can’t. Apparently I’m not enough. It’s too much, it was bound to break. I was bound to break. Did you know that? Did you want that? ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?

You’re the living proof I’m a stupid masochist. And I hate you for it. You didn’t bring the best out of me. You just drowned me somewhere I thought didn’t exist anymore. But it turns out it’s still there. All my insecurities and questions and judgements are still them. And you encourage them, unknowingly. But you still do. You fucking need to learn not to EVER promise something you can’t deliver. You have no idea how much your words and actions hurt. I don’t even think you care.

But I do. I do care. I can’t handle it. I wasn’t lying when I told you I was hypersensitive. I feel too much, that’s why I play music, that’s why I write. I feel too much. And you? You’re like the knife on my back I never expected at all. It fucking hurts.

And I know it all changed. And there, you can see time doesn’t pass without you and now you know I have no answer to this… I know… I know.

I want to get over you but I’m still hung up. I still…

Love you. I’m screwed because I love you.

And I know it’s not what you wanted. Hell, I didn’t want this either. But there. It happened. I fell in love with you.

And how I hate myself for it.