I care about you.
Those were the last words I ever heard from you. The last ones that mattered, anyway. I believed you. I believed you with all of my heart because I had just done something stupid and you didn’t run away. You stayed by my side even though I was frustrated, and probably a pain in the ass. You stayed right there. You even tried to comfort me, hell, you were probably ready to hold me in your arms and let me cry my dried-out tears. But I didn’t want your help. I wanted to be angry. I wanted to be sad. I wanted to be the center of attention. I wanted you to understand what was going on without me telling you. And when you didn’t, I blamed you for it. My arrogance got the better of me and with every passing second, I grew more and more unbearable, like a screaming baby. I regret what I did, I really do. However, changing the past is impossible. I’ve tried it many times and it never worked. I lost you, like so many others, because I gave too much too quickly and overreacted when the feelings didn’t come back as strongly. I wish I could’ve just accepted things the way they were. I wish I would’ve been able not to push you, not to push myself into a direction that was so clearly not the right one. I wish things wouldn’t have ended. But wishes remain just that. They hang in the air like unused words, forever floating about with no directions. And it’s too late for them to be spoken out loud now because we’ve both moved on with our lives and because you’re growing tired of reading the same old story over and over again. After all, it’s just words I write. Their meaning gets lost in the warm summer breeze as we move along the paths we’ve chosen for ourselves. And words without meaning are better off not being read.