The breakup....

A short draft

I was used to our happy days, spending lovely moments together before those soon faded. We had both known I would be moving, though I thought we were prepared though we really weren't. I had moved in September I was only seventeen. You were nineteen had the whole world ahead of you. You kept saying all you wanted was me. Like I didn't want the same.

You didn't want me staying longer than what I wanted, you wanted me back as soon as possible. Even if it meant me losing time with my family, which is the reason I moved. I finally had a dad I had been longing for. I lost endless amounts of family time, going out with friends, and even sleeping to try and keep up with the timezone changes.

Yet you never took time off for me, all the times I was blown off for your friends. Then when I say I'm not happy with you just to pull. "If you love me you'd move back here." Like that doesn't hurt me? Like none of our pathetic disagreements hurt me. Trying to force me not to leave you by telling me to "Think over what I was doing?" Like I didn't know what was best for me?