I think I finally get it now. Why everyone else saw it coming, was expecting it, except me.

It's because I was there. No one else.

And I can tell them what you said, I can repeat the exact same words that fell from your lips because, even after all this time, they're still stuck on repeat in my head.

But I can't make them understand, not really. Because they weren't there. I was.

I was there to listen to your tone of voice when you uttered all those promises against my skin. I was there to feel your arms tighten around my body, every time I moved a single inch, as though you were afraid I was trying to leave. I was there to see all those shadows and ghosts of feelings pass over your eyes. I was there to witness all your show of adoration and dedication and could-have-been-love. I was there to see you fall apart when all your insecurities caught up to you.

But I'm not there now, wherever it is you are, to pick up the pieces, to reassure you that you're enough, would always have been enough, regardless of what anyone else might've tried to say.

No, I'm not there anymore because you don't let me. I guess I saw you in a too-vulnerable state (and perhaps I was the one who left you vulnerable in the first place) and it's not that you didn't like it, but it made you scared. I was the first person to see you without your precious armor and, instead of trusting me and running the risk of having your heart broken, you broke things off without even doing it properly.

You left me on read. After months of I love you's, after all the tears and secrets we spilled long after midnight, after all the touches and stolen kisses, after I bared my soul and body to you, after all the late night phone calls and broken I miss you's.

Maybe you think there's a way for things to go back to the way they were if you do it this way. Or maybe you can't bring yourself to officially end the best thing you've ever had. But let me tell you now that there's no going back from this. Because, when you stopped replying to my texts started ignoring my calls, you didn't just hurt yourself in the process, you broke whatever it was we were building and you broke a part of me too.

So, when you see something funny one of these days, and your first instinct is to call me to tell me about it so we can laugh about it together, or when it's two in the morning and you can't fall asleep because you miss me so much it hurts like a physical absence, just remember: I'm gone, and it's entirely your fault.