That's what I said when you asked.
I’ve known you for years, I know you almost as well as I know myself.
That’s why I know that you didn’t truly love me.
You loved the idea of me, the idea of being with someone who has existed with you for the longest time.
You loved the excitement that came with being around me, the thrill that is brought about by the life I live, and the lifestyle I was born into.
You loved the friends you got through me, the friends that are ever supportive and fun-loving and honest.
The truth was that you never loved me, though.
You barely knew me.
I know you, know you almost as well as I know myself.
That’s why I know that you never really knew me.
You never knew that I wanted to be with you too, but not because you’ve existed with me for the longest time, but because your existence was always special.
I’ve known others for a much longer time.
All of them are still in my life today, but none of them compared to you.
You never knew that the excitement in my life was unwelcome.
I never wanted it, it just came with the package.
If I could get rid of it, I would.
Would you still love me then?
You loved the friends you got through me.
I can’t fault you for that, I love them too.
I am not my friends, though.
If you only knew me for a year, if my life isn’t as grand as it is, and if my friends weren’t as amazing as they are, tell me,
Would you still love me?
I know you.
I know you almost as well as I know myself, that’s why when you asked me if I loved you back,
I don’t love you.
The truth’s much more painful to say.