To the Boy Who Broke My Heart

I’m not mad, I don’t think I ever could be. Or, at least, I don’t think I could ever be mad at you. I am angry at myself though. I’m angry I allowed myself to get so attached. I’m angry I allowed someone to yet again be in control of my emotions. I don’t despise you, I never could. How could I hate someone who gave me so much to be happy about? I do hate the way I feel though. I hate how I used to love waking up at five in the morning even if it meant I only saw you for five minutes the whole day. I hate how every time someone mentions your name, or I see a picture of you or something that reminds me of you, I feel like I’m getting stabbed with a thousand knives. I don’t hate you… I swear. I’m not going to lie and say I’m not sad, because it feels like you tore my heart into a million pieces. I won’t lie and say I didn’t cry, I don’t think I have ever shed the amount of tears I did the night you ended things. I’m not going to sit here and say I’m over you, Because I’m not and I don’t know when I will be. You gave me a lot to be thankful about. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy before. But then, in a blink of an eye, you took it all away. And I had no control of the situation or how you feel. I guess that’s my problem. I give and I give until I give everything I have to give. I give and give no matter how much the other person is giving. I give and give until I’m empty. And once you’re empty, it’s hard to get full. I empty it all out to the wrong people, Just for them to leave. I don’t hate you Nor am I mad at you. It’s my fault anyways, I gave you the opportunity to learn my secrets, my fears, my interests, my everything. But you chose that my everything was not everything for you. I’m sorry I wasn’t everything for you…