5) The Little Things

He said no guy will ever love me as much as he did, but quite frankly I think he was confused with what love was. He believed it was being there and talking to that one person for the entire day. Which it is. But in our case it wasn’t because after a while he stopped listening and our conversations became less concentrated with how are you and more concerned with what are you doing. As if it was more important to be surveillance than to be a supporter.

Love consist of the little things.

The random pictures he should have sent me because they reminded him of me in that moment instead of telling me that he saw something that made him think of me and then fail to explain what it is because he forgot.

Love is the random calls when he had two minutes to spare in his oh so busy day. The random I miss you text just because.

But our love became much more about who had the last text, who fixed the last argument, who apologizes and forgives more frequently, and who shows that they care the most. But our way of caring were different. He was more like “what are you doing? How is it going? I know its going great.” I was more like “What’s your favorite video game? What time do you work? How are you feeling at home?” We found that the questions we asked each other were often things that neither one of us wanted to talk about. In our last couple of months we ended up aggravating each other with these questions to the point in which we just stopped asking.

I guess it could be true that no other guy would love me more than he loved me if that is how he feels. I cannot know how much he felt he loved me because I could never feel how he felt, but I know that anyone could show me that they love me more than he did with simply liking me.

Love to me are the little things. The chocolates because he knows that I like it. The sweet candy because he knows I have a major sweet tooth. Sweet text before work or simply remembering the little things. Like things I have said or done, things I don’t even remember.

And he forgot to remember my birthday to make me mad on a day I was supposed to feel special. That’s not love (at least not in my eyes).


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s