No, just let down because I've accepted the fact it's not me and it never will be.
Accepted the way he hates me, turns to me when he's bored, or when he's lonely because she won't talk to him. Isn't that enough?
It is. It is enough, because at least he's there, at least I know I crossed his mind at some point.
But honestly, it will never be enough. No one will ever be enough because no one will ever be more perfect for me than he was. He set that fucking bar so high that every other boy I meet, every other boy that likes me, loves me, falls for me- I don't care for them. I did try, I did try with a couple boys, I tried to care for them, I tried to love them, to fall for them if only a little, but I could not. I could not lie to myself and I could not lie to them.
In the depths of my attempts at love, I realized something, I was him.
I was lying to a person who was vulnerable, open, and naive. I was pretending to like them, when I didn't. The attraction, the smiles, the little words and quirks, the suggestiveness and offhand one-word things I say just to keep the conversation flowing when I was utterly uninterested: It was all a lie.
I realized what I was doing, I apologized, I confessed my lack of interest and my fear, I let out that there wasn't anything wrong with him, it was me, I was in love with another and I couldn't force myself to love anyone else. And then I left.
Everything I did was done to me, and that scares me. It terrifies me that I would do something like that to someone and to myself. It grabs onto my thoughts and squeezes until all I can think about is, "Was that what I was? A distraction from the girl he was in love with? He was in love with someone who did

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and then I crashed, and I lost the entire six more paragraphs that I had written. But they were so fucking beautiful that I want to die now. I'll never be able to write something as I had, but I lost them. And I'll never recover them or replace them.