keep pretending that you love me and I’ll keep believing you

I hear your words. I hear your words.

I hear your unspoken pity.

I hear you say it’s inconvenient for us to be together.

I hear you not say that you desire convenience more than you desire me.

I hear you say I’m ambiguous.

I hear myself confess my love for you over and over and over again.

(how could I have actually believed it was my fault you were not expressing love for me).

My “ambiguity” turned out to be your ignorance for my words, and your horrifying apathy for how your actions affect those who care deeply about you.

I hear you say you know that you’re bad at communicating.

The understatement makes me laugh.

I hear your inflection when you want the conversation to end. When my words inspire not love but discomfort.

I hear your selfishness when you tell me how much I mean to you, how much you love me, and your shock and embarrassment and backtracking when you realize I actually believed you.

By the way, when you became distant and I asked if it was something I did or if you were simply uninterested, the correct answer was “there’s someone else” not “you’re pushing me away”.

There’s always someone else to blame.

I do not hear you say that our dreamy January evening was all too easy for you to enjoy and forget. At least I know now, so I can stop finding comfort in the memory of you in my bed.

I do not hear you tell me that you changed your mind about loving me. About wanting me. This was something i was supposed to figure out on my own, right?

I feel your fickle, childlike “love”.

But only when it’s convenient of course.

I do not hear truth from you. I never hear truth from you.

I don’t hear anything. There’s a ringing in my ears.

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