What makes love, love? I mean the love that people decide to get married over. I thought I was in love. I thought. Apparently thinking you're in love is different than actually being in love. I loved who she was with me. When it was just us two.
College took her. Allowed her to spread her wings. For her to think that the world was huge and that I was a small spec of gravel to her feet. She thought she could do more, find better, and live happier. She left me. She disposed of me like three years had meant nothing to her.
How do you say you love someone and end things so quickly? Not only that, but believe you truly like another person nearly two weeks after we break? Were we really in love? I don't know and I won't for a long time. I may look back thirty years from now. I'll remember it all...or will I?
She's confused and I'm a simply puppet that she likes to play with. It's cliche and stupid but it's the way things are. I am nearly an instrument of safety to her. I am the old shoe that she will always come back to, but she's no longer mine. I'll find my own fit somewhere with someone who does love me. Who won't abandon me.