Whenever I took a silly joke you made personal, when you knew me too much to let me hide that fact, you always told me I was too good and I would get hurt.
When I cried to you over the phone when I told you I felt my friends were replacing me, you told me I was too good and I would get hurt.
When I forgave you for making the same mistake for the hundredth time, you told me I was too good and I would get hurt.
When you walked away I understood fully.
You were not being negative minded as I always said you were, you were being painfully realistic and brought me down just like you wanted to- down to Earth, but also down to pieces.
I was too good, just as what we had was too good to be true.