simply journal

You would think that loving someone enough means seeing her happy is enough, but somehow it hurts beyond my imagination when she’s happy… with someone else.

I believe I am happy when she’s happy, because her smile puts a smile on my face every time. Then what is this bitter pain? I can almost taste my own blood like I’ve been punched a thousand times yet lived to feel it.

She no longer needs me. There’s no place for me in her heart… I guess I am so very selfish after all.

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