conversations (part 2)

what I think he really meant

You care too much, and that scares me. I'm afraid you'll realize that every awful thing I think about myself really is true.

I'm afraid you're in love, and I don't deserve that.

I'll tell you that we never would have worked out, so I don't have to admit that I'm actually just afraid of having something real.

We can't go back to what we had, and I don't know how to move forward with you.

I need to move on, but I would feel guilty if I moved on and you didn't. So instead, I'll end our friendship so I can convince myself you end up moving on too.

I'm writing this because I don't know how to tell you in person. I don't want to see the look on your face when you do. I won't be able to convince you it's better this way if you're standing in front of me, trying to fight me, your tears proving just how wrong I am.

You seem sadder lately, and I know it's my fault, but I don't know how to make it better. I don't care enough anymore to try.

I never knew how to make you feel better. You need someone who does.

You will never be enough. Not worth fighting for, worth the effort this would take.

I'm sorry that you care more than I do, that this seems like my only option, that I'm hurting you to try to fix me. That I told so many lies.

I wish I could forget you; it would be easier that way.

I hate that you're so far away. You left, and I don't know how long-distance can work.

I want things that you can't give me.

I want to just move on and pretend you don't exist.

Goodbye.

I hope I never see you again.