When I saw you across the room, I knew. I knew I wanted you and I suspected you wanted me. The room was filled with smoke and sadness and sex and self-pity, but you made all of that clear away with a single glance. What I didn’t know is you would hurt me more than any other person could. That you would make me wish thousands of times that I would die, but I never did.
It wasn’t that you outright set out to hurt me; it was the little things that killed me. The careless gestures, the fact that you forgot the everyday things we did, on normal days with nothing special.
You remember the time I fell asleep in the theater, and you laughed at me for hours? No, of course you don’t. It wasn’t that great a movie anyway.
I love you as much as I hate you, and I love you with everything I have. And I love you more than you could imagine. I gave you everything, darling, and you never deserved it. Not for a moment. I just imagined you did. All you did was use me, and slowly forget me as soon as I happened. You made me believe I was invisible, even though you were the only one who never saw me.