I lived too slow and I knew I would lose her,

So..

Because I did love you or I thought I did and now I miss you. But maybe it's not you I miss, but the idea of you. I wanted to know everything about you and now I think I knew nothing at all. Let's be honest, that's nothing knew. I loved your every imperfection because that was made you beautiful. Perfection is so boring. I loved how crazy you were, how different and wild and wonderful you could be.

I don't miss you, just the memory of you. And even worse, I miss what could have been. I hate that about me. And I hate that in the end you meant absolutely nothing. Like everything else. Because I can't love. Or can I? I'm not sure what love is.
I have no problem with sacrificing you. I'm a selfish machine, programmed for a bad facsimile of love and egotism. You were a means to an end that I cannot comprehend or reach.

And the worst part, the sickening part, that horrible fact of

Shift Up, Up, Up, Up, Up, Up, Up, Up, Up, Up, Up, Ctrl C, Ctrl V, Ctrl V, Ctrl V, Ctrl V, Ctrl V, Ctrl V.

Someday soon I'll come back to this post and feel annoyed at how bad it is. Or something. Because in the end it means nothing. Like everything. How depressing.