Post-Apocalyptica

You want to know what I think? I think you love me. I think you've loved me this whole time.

You think you're totally in control of your emotions. As if, if you thought something wasn't for the best, or wouldn't work out, you could just tell yourself not to feel that way about that person, and you just immediately wouldn't. You never wanted to love me. You always knew it was a bad idea. You tried so hard to stop yourself from loving me. You told my best friend barely a month after we met that you were 'trying really hard not to fall in love with me.'

And you have. You've been trying so hard this entire time. And that, stranger, is why it is different this time. It's different because usually you wouldn't have to keep trying so hard. You would tell yourself, 'don't feel that way,' and then you just wouldn't. And then you could just walk right out of my life and move on with your own, and be perfectly safe and fine.

But every time you try to do that, every time you tell yourself yet again that I'm nothing to you, and force me out of your life, and try to walk away, you stumble. You stumble and you can't leave me behind. Not because you're still trying not to love me, but because you already do.

You have all along. That's why you can't walk away, no matter how much you tell yourself, and me, that I'm nothing to you. That you don't care. You've just gotten meaner as time has gone on because deep down somewhere even you can't reach, you know. But acting like it means nothing to you isn't going to change the truth. You're going to have to face it someday.