Just Like a Love Story

It started just as beautifully as any love story.

I had never really envisioned being with you, although I had heard extensively about you - you were indeed very often and enthusiatically praised, seemingly, everywhere I went.

And then you called. And I couldn't quite believe or accept how lucky I was that you would choose me and step out right there, right when I was lost in the middle of nowhere, looking for myself and for a way out of my unhappy, broken days, and that you would offer to take me away.

So I followed you, full of ignorance and naiveté, and you fulfilled my wildest dreams. You introduced me to awesome people, took me under your wing and produced an amazingly improved, and just plain good, new version of myself. I was happy.

I am lucky, although I don't always see it. In this case, I am lucky because you mostly hurt others, and not me. But I was affected by the fact that you were taking your toll on those I love - and one day I woke up and saw the toll you'd taken on me.

I still felt like waking up to you in the morning and doing all those things we did together - but everytime, after a little while, it all felt unsatisfactory. Not as easy as it was before. I thought it was a phase, and waited for it to be over - except it never ended. You were sending my friends away. You were never truly appreciative of anything I did, but you kept asking for more.

In order to protect myself, I stopped being actively involved in my relationship with you. I stopped going out of my way to make you happy. I couldn't bring myself to do it anymore, because I knew you didn't really care. I knew you weren't really worth it. But I remained by your side - because you had broken me on some level, and because I didn't know better.

When I left, I wasn't too sure. I was disappointed that I had to leave. And then for a while the hard feelings I harboured for you that I had been pushing at the back of my mind gradually came forward, and grew stronger.

I can still see you; I am still watching you. I still wish I could have stayed. I loved being with you. I wish you had not pushed me, and everyone, away. But I can see you are still hurting those I love, and I know you will never change.

So now, after all this time, I can't help but hate you.

Author's Note: I hate having to put up such warnings, but in order to avoid any confusion and panic amongst my limited readership, I would like to point out that this, although not a work of fiction, is a METAPHOR, people. Thank you.