I was with someone. A girl. My childhood bestfriend. She left our country after our High School graduation. Like the best buds that we are, we kept in touch. It's funny how we seemed to grow so much closer to each other after she left. As time went, I realized I had fallen in love with her, and I fell HARD. I loved her. God, how I did. I loved her more than anything and anyone. Even if she wasn't my type at all. I'm like the homecoming queen and she was more like the geek that everyone loved to push around and pick on. She was difficult. She was lonely and hurting. She needed someone and I loved her for it. I loved her pain. I loved the fact that I seemed to be the only one who could heal her. I loved the way she loved me back. She would write the sweetest things about me and for me. There were times when I would ask, "What did I do in this life that was so right to deserve a love like this?" Love. She was the only one I ever called Love.
I'm not like this. I'm the pretty and popular biatch who toys around with boys' hearts. I'm the tough chick who never cries (unless I was using tears to get what I want, exactly how I wanted it). I'm the bimbo who doesnt care about anything else that keeping every strand of my hair in place. The Ice Princess. And Love... she was the only one who made me melt.
We've been together for about three years. She became busy. I became busy. The love letters and sweet nothings gradually stopped. Maybe except for a few random text messages or phone calls. For some time, we made that work, too. We understood each other like that. We knew each other better than anyone else, even though we were completely different. I knew not to call when she was on duty at the hospital. She knew not to disturb me when I was at dance rehearsals. We even knew our countries' time differences by heart... There are a lot of people who say that long-distance relationships don't work. I thought it was hard, but we could prove them wrong. I thought we were different. She made me better. She made me live, really live. I was her strength. I could heal her like no one could. What we had wasn't perfect, but it was enough. Maybe I was sadly mistaken.
"I get lost in the dark sometimes." That's what she told me. I understand that she gets lonely. I can imagine how alone she felt in that country. She grew up here. with our friends. with me. That got to her really bad. She was depressed. She even had a therapist give her some meds for it. It got so bad that last December she attempted to commit suicide.
My initial reaction was anger. I wouldn't let her know. I never let it show because she didn't need that. But i seethed inside. I wanted to grab her and ask, "What about us? Are you gonna leave me just like that? Don't I matter? Don't our plans matter?!" I wanted to tell her she was being selfish and cruel and unfair, but I didn't have the heart to... 
What's worse is that it made me feel inadequate. It made me feel like no matter how much I changed for the better, no matter how much love I gave her, it would never be enough. I was not enough to make her love herself. I wasn't enough to make it right... and I'm tired.
I'm tired of fighting for this, knowing that in the end, I might just wake up to find out I was fighting by myself. That she would eventually give up. I'm tored of tip-toeing around her heart's eggshells, and picking up her broken pieces. I'm tired of trying to heal someone that I can't no matter how hard I try, and I'm sorry.

my foundation was rocked my tried and true way to deal was to vanish
my departures were old I stood in the room shaking in my boots
at that particular time love had challenged me to stay
at that particular moment I knew not run away again
that particular month I was ready to investigate with you
at that particular time

we thought a break would be good for four months we sat and vacillated
we thought a small time apart would clear up the doubts that were abounding
at that particular time love encouraged me to wait
at that particular moment it helped me to be patient
that particular month we needed time to marinate in what "us" meant

I've always wanted for you what you've wanted for yourself
and yet I wanted to save us high water or hell
and I kept on ignoring the ambivalence you felt
and in the meantime I lost myself
in the meantime I lost myself
I'm sorry I lost myself¡-.i am

you knew you needed more time time spent alone with no distraction
you felt you needed to fly solo and high to definewhat you wanted
at that particular time love encouraged me to leave
at that particular moment I knew staying with you meant deserting me
that particular month was harder than you'd believe but I still left
at that particular time

-Alanis Morissete
"That Particular Time"