I have thought about adding a new section to this web page. I really want to, but I keep stopping myself. You probably won't read it, so it will just be a waste of time, right? But that argument really didn't stick. Loving you, and caring about you will never be a waste of time even when you don't notice or care.
Then I figured if I added this new part, you will disregard the site as a whole. You wish I could be like everyone else and stop "loving" you. You stopped "loving" me, so what's wrong with me? What's wrong with me is that I actually loved you. And I still really love you. Love has a different definition for every person. For a long time, I defined your love by my definition and came up with the conclusion that you didn't love me. That led me to treat you in ways I wish I hadn't. I have learned not to question other people's feelings because they actually may feel more that I think. Not as strong as I wish, but they might feel something.
My definition of love - I have tried to show you, not just tell you. I hope you have an idea of what I mean when I tell you I love you. And I can't just leave because I love you in a different way than you have ever been loved before. You can break my heart everyday and I won't hesitate in telling you I love you more despite it.
You were my first girlfriend. I wouldn't let anyone close to me in my life, not even my family. I really hate being seen, so I don't hang out with any of my friends. But when I was with you, it wasn't really like it was me and you. It was us. In my eyes, we became one. That's why I let you touch me, when I wouldn't let anyone see me. That's why I held you when I didn't want to be known. That's why I was more comfortable with you than I have ever been with my mother. And with you gone, it's hard to let go of that piece of me. The piece that completed me. For the only time in my life, I felt real. For the only time of my life I didn't feel so empty that it made me know everyone knew I was empty, that I was nothing. But, when you lose the most important part of you, it hurts. I don't think you can begin to understand how much it hurts. I feel like most of me has died inside and the rest just doesn't give a damn. There's nothing important enough in this world to care about for.
I love you. I can die smiling because I know you were loved. That you were loved more than most anyone will ever know, if only by me. But it will be a smile with grief in knowing that I won't be sure that you were shown that you were really loved. So I add this part, hoping to turn that grief into happiness. As much as it hurts me so much, I will continue doing things for you to show you how much I love you.