"It is no longer a question of "Should I stay?" ...but rather, "When should I go?"

For, you see, I no longer crave your attention the way I used to. Nor have you craved mine.

I see they way your eyes glance at me, when you believe I'm no longer looking- eyes with a sharp pain that acknowledges that yes, we have both changed.

And it wasn't when you said, "I want the old you back" that I first realized it- we, had faded away, but rather the first time I caught myself with my eyes open during our kiss.... the first time I said an empty "I love you too."

For I was always taught to be truthful, but in the moment, the lie was so natural, so convenient, that I didn't want to ruin the memories of a perfect something.

How had I not seen this coming?
When should I go?
How could I ever leave this?

These are all questions that will ruin me."

I was going through my drafts when I found this from February of this past year. Isn't it ironic how the tables have turned? Because February turned into August, and now I am begging you to stay as you tell me you have to go-- that you want to leave me.  

And now I'm sitting here wondering how I could have ever written that I couldn't have loved this man, but according to the February me, I was preparing myself for this fall all along.

My heart is hurting since he told me he has not felt anything for a long time. And, apparently, neither had I.