I can't believe you get annoyed by how I feel. By how you make me feel. I care about you. I care deeply about you. You make me feel like you don't care about me. You make me feel like you tolerate me, because you have no choice. Because we're forced to see each other, even when you don't want to see me. I always want to see you. You make me feel invaluable. You make me feel like an annoyance, and after your comments today, I know that that's exactly what I am. I don't know why you couldn't just say that 1001 years ago. I don't know why you played me. I don't know why I held onto you for so long. I don't know why I let myself get wrapped in hoping. I don't know why I kidded myself into believing you could ever think I was of any value. You're right, you've never been rude or mean to me, but I happen to know you're a gentleman and we do work together, so of course you wouldn't openly be any of those things to me. You'd be professional, you'd be polite, you'd be fake. Because you're a good guy, which is part of why I wanted feelings to be mutual. Which is why I wanted to kid myself into believing I could matter as much to you and you do to me. I was an idiot. I have no one to blame for this, but myself. I accept the blame. I also accept that what I thought existed never did, and there's nothing left. That what I thought was real, wasn't, and now there's nothing. I'm not going to pretend that my heart doesn't hurt. I'm not going to act like I'm not sad. I'm both of those things. At least I know now. At least I was prepared for this. At least I expected it. Even if I hate it.
Shannon
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