And you're gone now.
It's like you've never been there at all.
Except I still see your face, and I can still hear your voice in my head late at night. More rarely, and often when I least expect it, I catch a glimpse of you. Sometimes I am in the room as you interact with the others, the ones you actually like. Those moments are so cruel because they let me hope even as I thought I had stopped hoping...that you might care.
But you don't. You never will again. The attention you give now is about other things, other people, not about me. And it becomes more and more apparent that you never did...even when you said you loved me, once, long ago