he can look into your eyes and tell you how much he loves you. how much he cares. but when you look back, it's just wall. covering any emotion. when you look back into his eyes, you only can see yourself. and you can smile, ignoring the thought of his glassy gaze and only think of his "i love you" and get a high from it.

it doesn't hit you until the end of it all where you realised he never truly meant it. you couldn't believe it in the moment. that he wasn't being truthful. so desperate enough to be genuine that you hoped that he was telling the truth, even though you found it strange that he didn't have a soul behind his eyes.

now as you cry in the dark corner of your room, you can only hope that everything'll be fine. you quickly begin to search the reason why he must've left you. because surely... there is a reason. after thinking deeply enough, you come to one conclusion, one final problem. and that problem... is you.

every argument you two must've had always started with you. when you denied him to sex. when you couldn't be what he wanted you to be. when you were clingy and latched on to his arm like a sloth. you become disgusted in yourself. you begin to wonder, how could he love you? how could he put up with you? and much of a blessing he's going through now that you're ripped out his life. how perfect.

every girl he was eyeing was so much more prettier, so much more elegant, and classy. they all were humane and was decently put up. you struggled carry yourself up to stand and look into your bedroom mirror. as you examine yourself, you see every disgusted flaw that all the other beautiful woman your lover was eyeing upon didn't have. the crookedness in your nose, the chubbiness in your cheeks, and the mess your hair was. it makes sense.

looking into the mirror takes you back to when he told you he loved you. that cold winter night at his house. how you idiotically accused him of cheating when you found pictures on his phone of other women. he was a popular man across his community. a very attractive one at least. of course women are trying to swoon him. you don't know why he stayed with you. he could've easily left you for those woman that were exponentially more attractive.

you begin to hate yourself more about how stupid you were. and you couldn't believe he still put up with that argument and still gave you that "i love you" you were begging to hear. how he picked you up from your feet and took you back to the bedroom. you sadly smile back. you remember how you tried looking into his eyes and found nothing. how it was like a mirror just as the way you're looking into one now, pondering your failures. you looked into the mirror and found a crack.

you.