You said you loved me, but you barely knew me. You didn’t even know the half of me.
I used to love living. Not that I wasn’t breathing every day, but I already lost my soul to live. I just had the presence. I only half-blamed the past as I was part of the decision it happened. The past in where I’d been used too many times before I felt very numb.
I was broken, shattered pieces inside. I’d been trying to pick up everything, but I knew it was all useless. No one could bring back what was before. All we could do was to start anew, with a slight touch of the past.
I didn’t believe in love now. It was just an illusion, giving you a taste that could be bland when the time came. It was all nothing to me. I learned my lessons, or so I thought.
Now, would you still love me? Would you still say I was worth loving, after everything?