The truth is, I lied.
I was not fine with you being with other people, I am still not.
I know I'm not enough for you. I know I couldn't disallow you to look for someone who else is enough without feeling guilty—even though I had every right. I know you deserve better than me.
I hope you know it's not because I didn't trust you. Or because I thought low of you. No, it's not like that.
I am extremely insecure about what I was able to offer you because I could see it is not well. I could see you have had better. I could see you could have more.
The truth is, I lied.
I am not fine with you being with other people, I never did.
I mean it whenever I say I just want you to be happy, even if your happiness doesn't include me. I am willing to make myself miserable to see you smile.
If I see someone is making you happier than I am, I'll back up. I'll assume that, sooner or later, you'll want that person instead of me. I would hate to see you leave. Illogically, I gave you the free-will to decide.
A part of me wanted you to deny everything. I wanted you to hold me tight and whisper, "I won't." I wanted you to look me in the eyes and say, "I know you don't want me to, and no matter how much you say you don't mind, I know you do. Baby, whatever it is, it's only you for me." Or somewhere along the lines of so.
A part of me knew you wouldn't.
So you see, sometimes you offer people choices hoping that they'll choose you. Sometimes you offer them choices knowing that they never will.
Because if you wanted to choose me, you would have.
The truth is, I lied.
I am not fine with you being with other people.
I try too much to be different, to not be like other girls. I never quite see the point in jealousy, because what is the point of a relationship without trust?
I trust you, I do. I don't trust other people, and, aforementioned, I realize sometimes they can give you more of what you want than I ever can.
But, God, am I jealous. And, God, am I envy.
I envy others because I lack the desired attribute you enjoy in which they own.
I am jealous of others because I am threatened by the feeling of losing you.
I did not want you to see me as a possessive person, because I know as much as if you hold the sand too tightly in your hand, it slips away and is lost. That is the last thing I ever want to happen.
The truth is, I lied.
I am a very jealous person.
I protect of what I have most dearly.
If you pay enough attention, you can feel it in the way
I hug you; I look at you; I hold your hand; I talk to you; I love you.
I am jealous of the people who/se
get to see you every day; you text other than me; are able to make you laugh; looks you admire; know you before I did; you tell everything to; you love.
Often times I am lost in a world where there is just you and me. My heart burns every single time I realize there is someone else, yet I swallow down each agony and pain, if it means that you will stay. (But I guess it pushed you away, didn't it?)
At the same time, I don't like the feeling of being unwanted or being the second-best.
I am a very jealous person but I would kill myself before daring to admit it, and I hate it.
The truth is, I lied.
I never say anything sweet or romantic to you. It's not because I didn't love you.
I love you. I love you. More than you'll ever know.
It's just every time I want to say something sweet to you. And my tongue gets tied so quick. But one thing, there's nothing best than staring at your eyes deeply, while you smile.