"What Was I to You?"

Love

I met you without looking for you, and without realizing it, I began to love you. I took the time to get to know you, and I fell in love with every detail: how sweet you were, how thoughtful. When I was cold, you gave me your sweater. You offered me food without me asking. You treated me with a tenderness I didn’t expect, even as just friends.

And just like that, without warning, you became a part of me.

I fell for you, not knowing if you felt the same. Still, I stayed silent, because I wasn’t ready to tell you how I felt. But little by little, I felt I was losing you. You changed. You became colder. Ruder. And yet, I kept looking at you with eyes full of love. You were everything to me.

When I wrote you that letter, I only asked for a kiss. It was my way of telling you what my voice couldn’t. But you just took it as a chance to use the love I had for you. You used me.

You have no idea how many times I cried after that, wishing you would love me for who I am, not for my body. I gave you my heart in a way I never had before, even though deep down, I knew you weren’t good for me.

I stayed with you, even when it hurt. Even when you were distant. Even when you made me suffer. You pretended to care, but it was all just an act. I, on the other hand, gave you everything—down to my last tear. And you never knew.

You knew where I lived. Why didn’t you come find me? Did I really not matter to you? What was I to you? What did I lack?

I only wanted to love you. And to be loved by you too.