A confession

So I know I told you I hate Valentine's Day, and I do. But
I made you a card and a CD with cheesy songs on it. You said
it made you cry and that you keep it under your pillow. How
sweet. But why couldn't you get me a card? Or even a single
sentence on a Post-It note? I guess I don't mean much to you.

And I know why you don't want certain people to know we're
seeing each other. I understand. But why do you go to such
lengths to hide us from &*everyone* else in the world? It
makes me feel like you're ashamed of me.

You came over to my hose the other week after D. asked you
to marry him again. If you have no intention of doing so,
why did you keep the ring? You told *him* that you would
"think about it," but you told me there is no way you'd ever
marry him. I used to think you were lying to him, but now I
wonder if it's not me that is being lied to.

If you're not feeling it for me, that's cool. But why string
me along? I don't understand you, and I don't think that I
ever will. Our mutual friend that you had the big
"misunderstanding" with? She says she wants to slap you
because you're being so mean to me.

And I happen to know that you won't be able to go to my
birthday party. I wonder when you'll bother to tell me.

I know you're life is not easy. I know you face a lot of
challenges. I know that it really, truly sucks to be you
sometimes. I wish I could help you, I wish I could fix things
for you. But I can't. You're the only one who can.

I love you. I want you to be happy because you deserve it.
But I deserve it too. If you don't want me, if you can't
respect me, if you can't appreciate me... just let me go.

I'll live.