I never thought that it would mean this much to me.

I think about you everyday. I don’t stop- every thing is you related. You’re great, you’re funny, you’re so cute, you’re an everyone’s-friend-kinda-guy, you’re smart, you’re talented, you’re my first love; you’re my first breakup.

Why were you my first breakup? The answer is shockingly simple. I couldn’t do it. I cannot put all of my effort into caring for someone whom I know I care so deeply about. In short, I care too much, and I’m scared. Simply because I care so much about every thing and I don’t want to lose myself. And if I care so much about everything, then how can I focus so steadfastly on you. Yet, you keep me enrapt.

What it means: We had to break up, not because I don’t love you, because I can’t have myself love you.

It isn’t just that though, you care for me, and that’s a lot of responsibility. That’s a lot of love. Do I want all of that, no, I want to be independent, yes, I want your body wrapped around me like my favourite turtle neck. You make me cuter. Long story short, I felt trapped, and I’m sorry. It’s like a box, and I like the box, it’s pretty,  but it takes a lot of energy to be in it. I prefer to only be in there sometimes.

What it doesn’t mean: It doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you. I do. I do care about you so much, I just don’t know if I can have you care about me, if I trust myself.

So I broke up with you. I got annoyed with the little things you do. I complained about them. It doesn’t mean that I don’t love them. I do. That’s what hurts so much- I love every little thing about you, it that takes so much time. They didn’t understand, they thought it was young love coming to an end. What it was was the epitome of love. Old married couple stuff. I complain about it for ages, but I love it really, I just need to vent. Old married couple stuff. Old married couple esque trust in myself that I find it encompassing and that’s why I complain, because I know that I love it.

What it means: I got annoyed, I can’t do this for a long time without feeling trapped. Without having fears, feeling weak, wanting to be independent. But I love you, truly, and that’s weird, this is so young.

I still care, I do. I still love you, I miss you, constantly. The love is diaphanous, an exultation. The love is stupid, young, adorable, warm, home. I am fearful, terrified, lusting, confused.

Everyone; stop saying I don’t care, stop acting like I wanted this. It was all me yes, but that doesn’t mean that it’s still not me. That doesn’t mean I took myself completely out of the relationship. I can never stop caring, and I don’t think that I ever will.

What it doesn’t mean: That I stopped caring. That I don’t need help through this.

What it does mean: That I think about you everyday. Constanly. That I need comforting, this is hard.

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