You don’t tell me you miss me anymore, even if I say it first. Even if I’m happy, for once, and wrote you saying how much I can’t wait for you to be back home; even if I’m sad and wondering why you don’t feel the same. You don’t say it back, because you don’t miss me.
No one should have to feel like the person they miss most in the world doesn’t miss them.
You don’t tell me you love me anymore, even if I say it first. On occasion you do, but it’s rare, and I feel like that’s opposite of how it should be. Doesn’t it seem that in a relationship if one says they love the other, the other would respond in the same sense more likely than not?
No on should have to feel like their whole world doesn’t love them back.
You don’t care anymore about anything I send to you, whether it be selfies, pictures of stuff that I did, when I tell you about my day or a story, when I talk about my blog, or when I say how upset I am. Sometimes, you don’t even respond.
No one deserves to feel like the person they care about the most doesn’t care about them.
You don’t try anymore; even if it’s obvious how upset I am. You make excuses, and you don’t listen to what I say. I’m serious when I say that I will leave you if this doesn’t get fixed. I’m giving you time to fix it, but baby, times a-tickin’, and this is getting old.
No one should have to feel like they aren’t worth fighting for.
You don’t ask me anymore if I have done anything harmful to myself, or how my day was, or ask me much in general. You don’t call me cute nicknames, you don’t say you miss me, you don’t say you love me, you don’t show me that you care. (And your excuse of not being in the mood or having time is bull. It’s not that hard to type “Baby, I love and miss you,” instead of “What’s up?”) Our conversations aren’t conversations, they’re small talk. If I wanted small talk all the time, I wouldn’t have agreed to be your girlfriend. I wouldn’t have let myself fall in love with you if I had known you were going to stop being in love with me.
No one, not even me, deserves to sit curled up in a ball in the bottom of the shower and wonder why they aren’t good enough. Wonder why they aren’t loved, or missed, or cared for.
Why am I not enough?