I don't know why I ever thought you were different than all those other boys. You turned out to be exactly what I feared you to be.

You talked about being with me. Staying with me for six years - at least - until I commissioned. You said you wanted to see me start my life.
But you couldn't even stick around for six weeks.

You told me how beautiful you thought I was. How you loved my eyes, smile, and charm.

After some time, I began to believe you, or at least believe that you believed it.

On days that I couldn't bare to face, you gave me strength for the day. You gave me reason to smile.

I thought you were different.

I shared my fears with you, but you became exactly what I was afraid of.

I feared being hurt,
being left,
not being sufficient.

And I am, you did, I wasn't.

I couldn't have made you stay, and I wouldn't have wanted to.
I just wanted to know what happened to that happiness that I used to bring you.

Where did it all go?

When did it run out?

It was only six weeks.

We weren't in love, but, oh God, we could have been.