Thoughts of a girl in my past.
I wrote her a whole book and she doesn't even know about it. It's filled with the stories of how we met, interacted and eventually, grew apart. It's filled with commentary of the love that I think, or at least thought was so deep that I could have died for her. It's full of my confusion. I really don't even understand where the confusion came from, whether it was from me or from her. Now I'm haunted with memories. I know that nothing I do can make her love me; at least I know that now. I felt like I could have killed myself over her leaving my life, of course, I guess I was confused about that too. Did I even know how much I loved her? Was I fooling myself? It seemed real enough to me but as I live my life without her, I'm starting to think that she wasn't as much as I made her out to be. Moving on is hard but it's not impossible. That's the only thing that gives me hope.