u/AbrocomaOwn4865

The innocent desire to cry in someone’s arms.
The innocent desire to cry.

Even if given a hundred opportunities, I wondered if I could.
They say that it’s okay to cry.
But I can’t.
A tiny bit of moisture on the rim of the eye,
Yet no drops fall.

And then it surpasses.
Maybe it is okay to cry.
Maybe it is okay to cry while someone else watches.
But in front of anyone other than myself, I can’t.
I can’t.

I often hear about how people who are considerate try to make you stop crying.
How they want to make you laugh,
Or at least put a smile on your face to make you forget that you were sad.
I don’t want that to happen to me.
I don’t want to forget the pain today so that I can remember it even more clearly tomorrow.
I want to cry, to relieve myself of all the emotions that have welled up inside me.

But even if that happens, the well will never be empty.
Because I will stop crying.
Not because I want to.
But because I can’t want to cry any longer.

So my tears become dry.
They stop running.
I put a tissue on my cheeks to catch the drops, 
Yet the tissue remains unused.
Because the tears have already dried.
Because there was nothing to collect in the first place.

I don’t want to be comforted in someone’s arms.
And I can’t cry in someone’s arms.
But what would I know, if I’ve never been given the opportunity to…

This is why I will leave you.

You told me I could trust you.
You showed me I couldn’t.

You told me you love me.
You made me doubt it.

You asked me if you could trust me.
Because you asked, I knew you didn’t.

You asked me if I love you.
Because you didn’t know if I did.

You say all these things,
But you never did anything but belittle me
And yell at me.

You say you yell at me because you care for me.
But you hit me.
But you screamed at the top of your lungs at me.
But you cursed at me.
But you said that I liked it.
That I liked being yelled at.
That I must have liked being yelled at,
Because apparently that’s what I have always made you do.

You told me I was your favorite.
You told the same thing to everyone else.

So.
No wonder I don’t like you.
No wonder I don’t love you.

If I loved you, I would mourn for you.
I would cry with you.
I would maybe even try to comfort you.
But I don’t.

If I loved you, I would cheer for you.
I would smile with you.
I would reassure and reaffirm.
But I don’t.

I don’t care when you cry.
I don’t care that I made you cry.
I don’t care when you’re happy.
I don’t care that I made you happy.

Nor do I care that I wasted your time.
Nor did it ever make me feel guilty when you told me I wasted your time.
Nor do I care that I gave you additional work.
Nor do I care that I gave you additional stress.
Nor do I care that I made you worry needlessly.
Nor do I care that I made you worry for any reason.
Nor do I care that I made you frustrated.
Or Angry.

Nor do I care that you say that you care about me.
Nor do I care that you care about me.
Nor do I care that you think that I care about you.
Nor do I care that you say that you love me.
Nor do I care that you love me.
Nor do I care that you think that I love you.
I don’t care whether you’re happy, annoyed, disgusted, angry, disappointed, proud, of me.

Because I do not hold that empathy.
I do not hold that sympathy.
Not for you.

I do not care about you.
My care is not for you.
My emotions are not for you.
I don’t feel guilty for wasting your time.
I don’t feel guilty for making you feel worthless.
I don’t feel guilty for lying to you.
I won’t feel guilty for leaving you.

You tried to tap into some unrealistic, optimistic hope that I have the desire to impress or please others.
I don’t.
It wasn’t my responsibility nor intention.
I do not feel guilty.
I do not care.
I am not selfish for thinking so.
You are selfish for demanding selflessness from me.

But…
I am sorry.
I am sorry that you felt this way towards me.

But…
This apology is not for you.
I am sorry to myself.
I am sorry that I made you think this way.
I thought it would be easier to let you continue these feelings.
I thought it was obvious that I did not feel the same when I didn’t reciprocate.
I am sorry that I made that mistake.
Because it troubled me.

You told me I could trust you.
That’s how I knew I should never.

You told me that you love me.
That’s how I knew you didn’t.

You asked me if you could trust me.
That’s how I knew you could never.

You asked me if I love you.
That’s how I knew I would never.

I realized though;
You said everything with such conviction.
From every word of praise to insult.
You loved me, didn’t you?
But you did not like me.
So I left you.