It Wasn't Really Love

She left me. Ghosted. Memories of happier times replay themselves endlessly in my mind and there's no escape from them. How did we get here? How did we reach a point of no return; a place within ourselves that tells us that we are strangers once again? How am I to go on living, pretending that you meant nothing to me? I know that I didn't mean as much to you as you did to me. I mean, how can one just so easily erase a person from their lives as quickly as you did me? As I lie here in this dark, cold room, I allow the pain of abandonment to wash over me; to penetrate my inner most being. I allow your eyes and that smile that I used to crave so much torture me until I want nothing to do with you. It is only when we lose someone that we thought cared as much about us as we cared about them that we finally see the importance of truth; the absolute necessity to have someone that is real; not fake. Some people are genuine while others aren't as they make themselves out to be. That is both the beauty and the monstrousness of what we call life.