I’m mortified. I’m so mortified that I still want you. That I still want someone so heartless. Because you know you’re hurting me but you’re still doing it. You continue to be in my life because I am the type of being you don’t want to miss out on. I’m vibrant. Brilliant. Spectacular. Interesting. Caring. Great. And you just couldn’t miss out on that, could you? I’m too shiny for you to not touch. Too sparkly for you to not tarnish. You’ve seen everything I have to offer. And I interest you. But not enough for you to actually love me. You’ve seen my skin, my hair, my secrets, my soul. You have seen it all. But then it got too real. Too much. Because I’m a storm sometimes. A nightmare. A hurricane. It hit you. So you had to be cowardly. Because I’m too much. And you had to walk away. So now I see who you really are. What you really are. Heartless. You tell me I’ll find better. That I just need to get over you. That I’ll be fine. But now I’ve lost every fighting cell in my body and I’m standing here in front of the mirror with half of you still hidden somewhere inside of me. And I sob. Because I just don’t understand why you did this. Because why did you? Why did you become part of my own being. Because I can’t even look at myself anymore. And I’ve had to redo my whole room because I can’t stand that you’ve been in here. That you have invaded my room, my space, my skin. I can’t stand that you’ve been in my bed. That you’ve touched every single thing in my room. That I can’t stop that from being real. Did you ever have any intention of loving me? Because I feel like you forced me to love you. So why did you do that when you had no intention of doing the same for me. Did you just have to try? Take a chance? See what I had to offer? That isn’t romantic. That isn’t sweet. That isn’t what I wanted. I pinned each and every hope on you. But now you’ve walked away. So I guess all my hope has gone too. I guess you were engulfed by my existence. And I liked that. But now I’m the only one on fire and you took the fire extinguisher with you. You just had to burn me, didn’t you? You had to risk breaking me for the sake of knowing you weren’t missing out on anything. That’s the thing about heartless people. They risk entire beings. They gamble entire souls. Just so they can please their own. Because when I was with you I felt like I had the entire world. But now you have belittled me to nothing. You swallowed me up. Or maybe I let myself be swallowed up by you. I got too invested. Because I would have happily spent the rest of my life with you. But the moment you sensed fear you were already halfway out the door. As if my heart, my human heart meant that little. And even after all of this. After all the taking. The heartbreak. The nerve. I don’t even get a call from you. An apology. An explanation. For the heartbreak. The loss. The damage. Nothing. Isn’t it sad how people would rather lose entire beings from their life than pick up the phone and apologise? Explain. Fix things. Stay.