Sometimes I think that I still love him... then I have to remind myself that I never did love him. Just like he never loved me. How could there have been love when we were both lying the entire relationship?

His lies were the reason I woke up in the morning. The reason I smiled so brightly and laughed so hard. I couldn't have loved him because I never knew him. I knew his lies. I knew what he wanted me to see.

My lies were the reason I was able to get any sleep at night. The reason I gave him so many chances after seeing the truth. I lied to myself more and more everyday to support his lies.

He never loved me and I never loved him. There can not be love where there is not truth and vulnerability. I gave him both but he gave me mischief and pain. I bared my soul to him and gave him my heart. Even after every time of him breaking it I would still pick up the pieces and hand them back to him. Let's be honest though, my heart was never truly whole. I was being foolish to think it would ever be different.

Now I hold the pieces to my broken self and I am attempting to put the pieces back together. Maybe I'll tell myself more lies to comfort my broken pieces or I'll start with the truth... I'm not okay.