It's over.

Two words have never cut me so deep.

It's over.

It's like a mantra, those two words keep flashing in my head all day. Even when I close my eyes, I see those bright flashing letters in my mind.

It's over.

Our relationship sucked, there was no doubt about that. I wouldn't have been able to go to college still dating him, it wouldn't have been possible. I always told myself that I would break up with him before I left, but it seems he beat me to punch.

It's pathetic really, I didn't even cry that much when my parents told me they were splitting up.

I've shead more tears for this boy, collectivley, than I have ever shead for anything else in my entire life.

It's just wierd to think that after four years, it's over.

Everything.

Done.

Finished.

Kaput.

I don't even think we'll be friends again after this.

That will be the hardest to deal with, not being friends anymore.

I just wish I had the answers. I wish he would tell me what I wanted to know, but he wont.

In fact, my asking questions is what spurred him on to say those two vile words.

He told me that he didn't think it was working out, between him and me. I told him that I didn't even know how to respond to that. Inevitably, before he could reply, I was overcome and I turned into the human water faucet. I said that I couldn't talk to him anymore and I left to go downstairs and I curled up in my comforter and waited for the tears to stop.

Then I took a shower.

We spoke again after that. He told me that all he wanted to do was talk about our relationship and he hadn't ment to break up with me, as I had previously thought, but since I had left, I had screwed up.

Apparently, he didn't care that I couldn't speak, or see, or even breathe for that matter due to the amount of fluid flowing from my eyes and nostrils.

I then asked him how long he had been waiting to tell me that it wasn't working. I half expected him to say a month or more.

He had said since this morning.

I asked him why.

He told me I asked too many damn questions.

Then he said, fuck this shit, it's over, bye.

And that was the last I heard from him. He boarded a plane to Miami that afternoon, and he is suppossed to return sometime tommorrow.

What kills me is, of course, the fact that it is basically all my fault. Of course, I wasn't the one that inniatiated the conversation in the morning, when asked why we didn't really talk anymore, I didn't give a detailed enough description, and when told that he thought it wasn't working, I couldn't hold back my tears long enough to have a discussion. Not to mention the fact that only a week or so ago I told him that I was having thoughts about the physical aspect of our relationship.

Clearly I had this coming, it was all my fault.

Want to know what the funny thing is?

If he called me after he got home, or if he dropped by my house, and said that he wanted to get back together, I would do it in a heartbeat.

I don't know what sort of hold he has over me, but I don't enjoy it.

He wasn't the only one that wanted to talk about the crap in our relationship.

There were things I wanted to tell him, that I was longing to tell him, but that never escaped my lips because I was scared of what he would do.

He has anger issues.

But, he never doted on me. He never called me beautiful to my face. He never inniatiated the kiss. He never seemed to want to take me out. He didn't touch me once his dick left my mouth, save for once. He never called, not unless I called him first. He seemed almost embarassed of me. He left for trips without telling me. He drank. He occasionally smoked, and not just cigerattes. He flirted with other girls. He lied to me, among other things.

He treated me more like a whore than a girlfriend.

At times, I half expected him to leave some money on the side table.

My mind and my heart have been warring with each other these past couple of months.

While my head tells me that he used me just like every other guy has used me, my heart insists that he ment what he said when he told me that he loved me.

His actions said one thing while his eyes said something else.

I don't know what to do now.

I have no one to talk to.

I told my good friend Sarah that we split, and she cheered.

Then she asked if I was alright.

It was like rubbing salt in an open wound.

I just want to stop hurting.

God, make me stop hurting.