I love you; why won't you let me?
July 09, 2009 � 12:56 a.m.

When I was in love with you, I felt like I was the most beautiful girl in the world. Whenever I spoke, I saw you were really listening to me by the intense way you would watch me move and smile and respond at the correct intervals. You would touch me and it would set my soul on fire. Just being near you or hearing your voice gave me butterflies. I could not have loved anyone more�no one could possibly dominate me more completely�I was a willing slave to your every notion, emotion, and whim. You were my everything, and I was infinitely happy with that.

That was me, a million years and dozens of lifetimes ago, when I loved you.

When I was in love with you, I felt like the ugliest thing to ever walk this earth. Sometimes when I would be speaking to you, it felt as if there wasn�t anyone listening because I could finish talking and you would startle yourself when you noticed it had gone quiet. You would avoid my eyes when you spoke, your tone nonchalant and noncommittal to whatever new story you were yarning for me. Your touch could be so tentative sometimes it could almost freeze my heart. Hearing your voice or being near you would make me sick with apprehension. I could not have hated you more, sometimes�no one else had the capacity to completely negate the way you did�you never even noticed how I was beaten down by your every emotion, whim, and notion. You were my everything, and I was eternally miserable in knowing that.

That was me, eons ago on a parallel plane, when I loved you.

That was the truth of it all. I loved you then. No one, not even the wind, could deny that I loved you then. But a time came when I fell out of love with you. I couldn�t take your ambiguity anymore. I couldn�t bear living another day near you, knowing you didn�t love me back.

You were the best, worst thing that has ever happened to me. You made me beatifically ugly, responsively insignificant, positively negated, and wonderfully browbeaten. That was then. When I was stupidly in love with you.

Now that I have smartened up and don�t love you anymore, I have finally come to a conclusion. This conclusion is the only thing I really know to be true and unchanging. It is the undeniable fever that wakes me from my dreams at night. It is as penetrating and final as Juliet�s dagger to the heart.

Now that I don�t love you anymore, it has become quite clear to me that I will always be in love with you

And no one�not you, not God, not me, not even the wind�can ever begin to find way to deny me of that.

I hate that I love you that fucking much.

O happy dagger! This is thine sheath; there rust and let me die.

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