Since I never actually told you how I felt, I guess it’s more my own fault than yours. Everything was too complicated and it wouldn’t have made a difference, so in the end I just didn’t say anything. But on the other hand, I didn’t really try to hide it, either. At least, I didn’t think I did. Maybe how I felt wasn’t as obvious as I thought it was, but every time you looked at me I just hoped you’d realize.
It sucks watching the person you love give his love to someone else. In my mind she’ll never be the one for you. She couldn’t be—because I am. In my mind, you’re making a huge mistake. So I thought about fighting for you, thought about biting the bullet and telling you how I felt, thought about the way you might tell her you were sorry and that she's great but you were in love with someone else. I thought about it, but didn’t do it.
Maybe what’s meant to be really will be, and maybe she makes you happier than I would, so I tried not to think about you. I tried to act like it wasn't killing me to see you with her, like it didn't affect me. I tried to ignore the lump in my throat every time your mom brought up her name or the feeling in my stomach when I saw you two together. I thought that maybe if I ignored it, it would go away.
It hasn’t gone away.
I’m at a loss. I can’t decide if I should try to wait it out or try to move on. Even the prospect of dating anyone else seems impossible. It's unfair—you have me wrapped around your finger, and you have no idea.
It just doesn't make sense to me. How can someone who makes me feel the way you do be meant for somebody else? When I asked you what your type was and you described me to a T, did you even realize? How can all of our shared laughs, and car rides, and singing along to country music in your truck, and lingering looks and hesitant touches not mean anything at all? How does all of that add up to a relationship with somebody else?
