Perhaps it's the weight of the lies you told, yet the weightlessness of which you told them, that drove the wounds so deeply into my heart that it bleeds the same day in day out, never healing, never stopping. Every day has felt the same since you left, full not of regret but of resentment, hating not you but myself, understanding nothing yet hoping for anything. Or perhaps it is the suddenness of how you left - as unexpectedly as you arrived - that left me with no time to process what we've become, so immersed with living the moment to realize the moment was already gone.

They say life can only be understood backwards and lived forwards but the passage of time has provided neither understanding nor reprieve; if anything the farther the weeks and months become, from now back to the moment you said goodbye, the more hurtful the resignation becomes - that nothing more can be done. And at this point it's hard to discern which hurts more - the fact that you've always been a part of me even months after you left my life, even if i went from meaning everything to nothing to you in one night, or the understanding that i meant so little to you all this time that while i've been living through hell every day since you left, i've never even crossed your mind.