Love doesn’t hurt. That’s not the worst thing. The worst thing he could do is tell me he loves me and not mean it. To make me believe that I’m enough for him to care when in reality my name could be mentioned and he would feel nothing. That’s the thing with love, some thrive while others crave. And when you begin to feel that the love you thought existed is and was only ever one sided, that’s when you crash. The thought that he got to you so much you found yourself telling him everything that you’d tried so hard to keep from anyone else finding out. The thought that when you look at him you can’t help but smile. The thought that he now knows you in so much detail and each and every one of your insecurities and the terrifying thought that he has the capability to use this against you. The thought that you let yourself give your all to him expecting more in return than what you were actually given. The fact that you were finally brave enough to love and was not loved back. That hurts.