I am in love. I’m not sure when it started, although I think I know how, with his smile definitely with his smile.
He is imperfect and he is so guarded with his feelings that he hurts me, not all the time but enough times for me to know that, even though I love him he does not love me.
We haven’t spend time together in four weeks, real time I mean, not just bitching about work in a safe public place. I knew it the moment I told him I was hurt and not mad, the moment I told him he had been inconsiderate and disrespectful that we were done. He never apologized and he never called me back for coffee Sunday mornings or dinner and sex.
He never apologized.
And I never called him back.
I never called him back even though I love him, even though he is in my heart and in my mind constantly. If I did, after what he said to me, I would loose all my self respect and I couldn’t live with myself then.
I can live without him, I can live in pain and sorrow, I can live with my tears and my sleepless nights but I cannot live without self respect.
He told me he didn’t care if I cared. When I was hurt, he didn’t care. Then I knew that even though I loved him and I love him still I couldn’t be with him.