We dated a long time ago and it didn’t end very well. He was a liar and I pretended to be a fool, and it worked for a while, but then the cracks in his stories and my patience got too deep to ignore, and he decided to move on.
At first I was crushed, but over the next few months I told myself that he never really rejected me for the simple fact that he never really knew who I was. I pretended to be who I thought he wanted, and in the end, he didn’t want that girl either.
After the breakup and a couple years had passed, we somehow started talking again and became friends, or as much as one can be a friend in that position. He apologized for treating me so bad, for lying, for hurting me. He was a whole new person now and he asked me to forgive him, which I did. But I never could forget.
Our relationship would ebb and flow over the next several years. At times we were each others strongest supporters, at other times each others worst enemies. But we were never quite just friends. I soon realized that no matter how much you may want to, you can never forget the past or the history you share with someone. He was able to stir the strongest emotions in me that anyone has ever reached, and he still could. And did.
The problem was that he still didn’t care. I was still in love with him after all these years, and he was still in love with himself. Only this time around, I could no longer pretend to be the fool I once was. I could no longer deny the emptiness I felt by his lack of love for me. And I wondered how much longer I could continue to keep him in my life under the premise of friendship when it left my soul running on empty.
