You told me once that I give you the air you need to get through life. I guess you suddenly became a Martian and needed another air to breathe.
I thought I knew what I was agreeing into. When you told me it would make you very happy, I never thought it’d be for the price of my whole being shattering to pieces.
I told him it was alright to not love me so much as before. I told him even if it ended already, when the time comes that he loves me again, I’d always be there waiting for him. I told him all of these with bated breath, with my eyes focused upwards in a futile attempt not to cry. But then I heard him sob and the dam broke, and we cried to ourselves even when we were together.
How could we fall out of love with someone we have loved our whole life? How could it still hurt so much even without love tethering us together?
I stood up and turned my back to him, wishing he would stand with me, or hold my hand, or tell me to stop or even just gasp the slightest when he realizes that this is finally over. That we are finally over. But I walked a step, and moved with the slowest motion, but he never quite caught up with me… That he never really followed me at all in an attempt to save what was already lost.