I never imagined this.

And that is the truth.

A couple hours before he broke up with me, I was sitting with a friend, and talking to her about it.
She asked me if I thought we would end up not being together.
I remember I felt like that was impossible. I shook my head. That couldn't happen.

But it did.

You hit lower than a girl would have. Girls know how to strike exactly where it's going to hurt the most, and apparently so do you. I just don't understand. I didn't do anything. And you turned around and clawed my eyes out as if I'd cheated on you with all your best friends and then some. I'm sorry you had to waste so much money on me. But you didn't have to come. I told you not to. And I couldn't get out of bed because I was tired as fuck. The timing was terrible. I would have been tired anyways, but you also came at the end of a week that I spent up all night every night typing papers. And when you asked to take my mom's car I got uncomfortable. That's just not something people do. And when you told me you were "fucking bored" with attitude, I was rubbed the wrong way. My bad mood from lack of sleep was only intensified.

We were apart so long that I learned how to live without you. I learned how to live without seeing you. All I had to do was talk to you. I missed feeling you, but at the same I learned to live without touch. People would reach out to hug me, or just bump into me and I would flinch. I didn't have to see you, because your pictures were on Facebook and Myspace. When you got in my car, I was exhausted and stressed because there were so many people getting pulled over, I was almost out of gas, and I could hardly keep my eyes open. I couldn't take you seriously in your uniform, and I wasn't overflowing with joy and excitement like I thought I would be. You looked like a little boy. And I felt old. Again, you were excited about something, and I wasn't. I was just so turned off and I don't know why. Your voice was even beginning to irritate me. Your hands were cold and you smelled like the plane. You took off your shirt, and were even more muscular than I thought. It was too much. I continued to pick out your flaws, which is ironic because I used to think you had none.

You just cut me really deep. That's all there is to it. Instead of that never happening, I was being held by someone else while I cried. I was being comforted by someone who could actually be here for me. I was being cared for by someone who understands what it's like to not be perfect, unlike you.