He did love me.

I know that.

But I had to go.

And now I see that, even though we would’ve been perfect together, we wouldn’t have been perfect for each other.

I don’t see you as anything but a friend now but I still don’t want _her _to love you, let alone you loving _her_.

But I know you don’t.

I honestly don’t think that there will be anyone but me.

And I hate that. Because I could never be who you need me to be.

And… I try. I try every day to move on. And sometimes I think I do.

But no.

So I tried to fall for sometime else.

And I came to the conclusion that if he tried as hard as I do, if he tries not to love me, then he’s not going to want to love anyone else.

And I hate myself for that.

Because he knew.

And I still fell.

And he still fell.

And part of me will ALWAYS love him, but for now, I can only love him as a brother.

Because if I let myself… love him… then I’ll never recover.