The end of summer was a pretty bad time for me. I could feel my depression slipping out of control and the tears just kept coming. Every morning I woke up thinking how awesome college was going to be. I thought of how you would be returning from your annual trip just a few days before it started. That’s when I remembered. We weren’t together anymore. We were supposed to be “seeing other people.”
Then the tears started. One by one they fell down my tanned cheeks, their wet trails glistening in the morning sun. I was thrown into a spiral of misery which took me from seven to ten. It was only when my sister hammered on the door and yelled “are you getting out of bed today or what?” that I even bothered to drag myself out of bed.
Every time I ate breakfast I would run through our last argument. Do you remember the one I’m talking about? The one where you did not want me hanging out with your best friend Bryan because you thought that I had a thing for him. Yes, that one.
“Why are you doing this to me,” you had said, gazing at me with your oh-so-innocent eyes. I looked right back at you, confused at your exclamation. We were having a dinner date when you randomly blurted it out. You must have been holding it in all through the movies. “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean!” You were wearing a frustrated expression along with your favourite pair jeans. I’ll admit I was a little taken aback. For the few years that we had been dating I had never known you to be impatient. “No,” I had replied, calm so I wouldn’t tip you into a fouler mood. I figured you were just on your Man-Period. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“You and Bryan.”
“Me and Bryan?”
“Yes,” you practically screamed at me. “You and my best friend Bryan.” Then you started going on about a rumour some jealous girl had told you about me and Bryan getting it on behind the bleachers. Which, for the record, was never true!
I had to spend the rest of the evening trying to convince you that it was just a bunch of baloney, but eventually I did. Afterwards, when you were walking me to my door you said “I love you.” I love you. As if those three words could make up for spoiling our evening. However, instead of telling you that this kind of behaviour was not on, I nodded and mumbled that I loved you too. Well at least I actually meant it. This brings me on to the next reason:
Number Two: All times you said the words “I love you” were just lies. You never meant it.