i loved him for a long time. maybe all that love for him made me think he was some sort of demi-god, perfect in my eyes. yes, even though he was ugly, even though his butt was too big, even though he can't play either DotA or basketball well, even though he was arrogant, lazy, unpredictable, shallow. even if he was a player. i loved him. even though i know he never did. yes, for all 6 years that i loved him.

i was disappointed that he smoked. i knew he did, but when i saw him do it, a little part of his pedestal crumbled, a little of the perfection wore away. but still, he stayed. yes, he stayed on that pedestal i put him on, and i looked up to him as this smart, funny, cool, interesting, sensible, amazing, perfect guy who had dreams and the means to achieve them he was always my competition, and in my eyes, i never measured up. and maybe i liked it that way because it drove me further, further than i thought i could.

but one night he got drunk. WE got drunk. and he went and flirted--rather, molested--someone i really value. so they were drunk. maybe it doesn't count. she says it shouldn't count. in my heart it did. he was a pervert after all. before my very eyes, his perfection crumbled. or perhaps that was my heart.

yes, i think that was my heart.

why did it hurt so much? because i never thought he was capable of doing something so utterly disgusting and despicable? because he wasn't what i thought he was? or perhaps it's something else..

i don't want to love him anymore. i don't love him anymore.

i try not to. but i guess that's how he is. inescapable.

i guess that's part of his so-called perfection.