It would be better if I just moved on, found someone new. . . but I can't. What hurts the most isn't that he's moving on. . . it's the fact that if I walk away, he won't follow me.
I can't stand that.
When he looks at me with those melt-my-heart brown eyes, I almost die, knowing that I had him, then lost him, for I was afraid to let anyone break my barriers. It's sad because he did what I tried to prevent him from doing. He smuggled his way into my heart, then ripped himself out, leaving a nasty hole in it's place.
I hate him. . .
And yet, I can't help but love him. . .