Kyle

He was your everything.
He looked at you as if you were a rarity, the only one who understood him without words. You loved him with all your heart. He confided in you his fears, his pain, his dreams.
You collected it piece by piece,
Forgetting about yourself, forgetting that you were also alive. He came with anxiety, with fatigue, with emptiness—and you accepted it as if it were your job.
You listened. You supported. You saved. And he lived, not noticing that you also existed.

Then he told about her.
Just like that, quietly, without anger.
It's easy with her. It's good with her.
You smiled. Through the pain, you wanted to cry, but keeping it all inside, you said:
—I'm happy for you. Well done.

And everything inside collapsed.
Not because he left.
Because you realized: you were never his choice.
He remained the same.
He stayed close.
He didn't lose you.
He just stopped being with you. You stayed.
Alive, loving, crushed.
You realized the terrible truth:
He only needed you when he was looking for salvation.

He never really loved you.
You loved. Enough for both. And now all that remains is emptiness, and quiet tears that flow like a river,
and no one will hear them.
And he quietly, coldly, almost without emotion says:
“I never wanted you to be with me… you were just there when it was convenient for me.”

And at that moment everything inside you breaks.
You understand: he didn’t leave.
He was always an outsider.
And you loved.

//your actions?//