I still think about you, you know. I haven't gone a day without thinking about you. It's easier during the week, because I have so many other things on my mind. But on Sundays... On Sundays, it hurts the most.

I remember the first time we met. I already knew at that moment that you would become someone special to me.

And I remember the first time you hurt me. I was devastated. I didn't know how to be strangers with you, someone I had shown my soul to.

I remember our "ignoring each other" game, that would've turned into a "never hearing from me anymore" if you hadn't apologized years later, despite your pride.

I remember the first time you told me you loved me. How did you manage to tell me everything I'd been dying to hear from you, and break my heart right after because you said that we could never be together?

I love you with from the bottom of my heart, but you're just too broken to accept it...

Your beautiful, but oh so damaged heart loves me, I know that. But you left, so I guess you just don't love me enough to stay.

And I hope you find someone who will make you want to stay. Want to have kids, and a dog, or two. Someone who will be able to replace the sadness you're feeling, and turn it into pure bliss.

Because that is how much I love you. Although the mere thought of you with someone else is driving me insane, I'd gladly welcome the pain if I know that you, my love, are happy.