I was obsessed with you. I know I should not have been, but I was. Trying to figure out where I went wrong, to find out what exactly did I do, to remember my mistake. When I couldn’t, I tried finding others. Trying to make you laugh, at least smile, or even a small curl at the end of your lips. To sit beside you and let you be. Give you time to open up and say something, a word or two. Talking about random things in a vain attempt of coaxing some funny memories out of you. Memories of us goofing up at unusual times and places. Of us having fun together. Of anything good.
But in my haste I forgot one thing, one very important thing. How could I join something that I never broke? How could I heal you without knowing the wounds? How could I mend you without knowing what’s wrong?
So I left. When you didn’t want me anymore. When you showed I wasn’t needed anymore. When you didn’t respond to my humor like you used to. When you didn’t look at me while I talked. When everything you had in reply to our conversations was just a nod. When you told me you needed some time alone. When you said you couldn’t trust me anymore because of someone else’s mistakes. When you steered away. I left.

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