i wasn't in love with him, i was in love with the way he treated me. and oh how easy it was to fall in love. i was having a love affair with roses on my doorstep and letters in my mailbox, jewelry from tiffany's and phone calls just to say, "i love you." it was the parts of him that had me fooled this was real. his hands, his eyes, his voice and his passion for me. he was so in love. i couldn't even entertain the idea that i didn't feel the same. but i didnt know any better. when someone loves you as much as he loved me, you're supposed to love him back. but it hurts to think back to the magical nights that peppered our relationship. like the night in san francisco, or the night up north we spent under the stars. to think of those nights any other way other than deeply in love seems to erase part of the magic. and a part of me. as if i was only partially there. the pains in the pit of my stomach should explain it. but if not, im not sure my lips could do it justice. its an explanation that i dont have to explain. although i feel like i owe you something. anything. but what can i say? nothing i'll tell you can make up that year that you'll feel you lost. it wont bring anything back. but how can i not say something? anything? i must confess. because confession is the human condition. because this would look so much better on your shoulders than on mine. but it seems secrets are easier to hide behind my eyes than yours. yours are just too honest to be believable. the girl next door probably has more skeletons than you. but why don't you take this one for practice. because i can't bear this burden any longer.