He Doesn’t See ME

I feel lost. I think that is the best way to put it. I keep going back and forth between him and freedom. We are stuck here right now. I don’t know that it is the right thing for either of us.

I know I loved him. I loved him with all of my heart. I could see him anywhere. I could see him across a crowded train station, and every time, my heart would skip a beat. I loved him.

The problem is he doesn’t see me. Still, he doesn’t see me. Figuratively or literally. We were both on the same train. We got on at different times. I was already on the train, and he boarded the train. I saw him get on. Instantly. I saw him. I had messaged him to tell him I was there. He looked right at me. I waved like an idiot.

He didn’t see me. That seems to be the theme in our relationship. He says he wants to be with me. He says he misses me. It’s not me. It hasn’t been me for a long time because he doesn’t actually see me.

I told him I was there again and waved. Told him he looked right at me. He asked if I had the pink bag.

No. That was not me. It was an Asian woman. Figures.

When I got off the train, I was one door away. Still he didn’t see me. It was too much. I ran. I couldn’t look at him. Still, after everything, I could see him and know him anywhere. He couldn’t do the same for me. He hasn’t for a long time. I knew it too. I did. I just didn’t want to admit it.

Even after I lost the weight. I wear makeup. I take care of myself. He still can’t see me. Why are we doing this? I don’t want to live like this. I was devoted to him and only him. I would have loved him and been with him until the end. He couldn’t do the same for me. I know he did things for me. He did show he cared in his way, but it’s not enough anymore. It can’t be enough anymore. Not after what he did.

This is a bunch of rambling. I know. I think there is a part of me that hopes he really and truly loves me for me, but as more time goes on, I know that isn’t the truth. He loves the comfort. He loves the routine. He loves the life style. All of which I was able to provide, but not me. Not who I am. Not what I think. Not what I value. Not me.

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