"More than a stunning debut. It is the announcement of a bold new literary voice"
—Stephen Chbosky, author of The Perks of Being a Wallflower

You may still be physically alive, but I’m sure the version of you I knew died long ago.
You have left me with a sea of ​​questions and insecurities, I was blinded and could not see the knife that was approaching my heart.

I always wanted to understand you, but I never managed to. You periodically changed your own words and confused me more, made me feel guilty and idiotic.
Despite that, I kept trying with you, because I wanted it to be with you. That was my mistake, not accepting that you were not ready for something like that, I believed your sweet words that you told me in the midst of the ecstasy of falling in love and then I could not understand your sudden change when experiencing the fear of what could happen.

I brought this harm on myself by insisting, but you caused it with your jerky caresses that hurt my heart.
Although now every time our eyes meet they only express rejection or melancholy, I have to admit that I still see you as beautiful as the first time, as beautiful as when I said “I want to do it right this time”.

Everyone tells me that it’s not my fault but that was the idea that you left me, now I find out that you speak badly about me just to get rid of guilt, that you see love as a game and you don’t have even a bit of emotional responsibility. That was not the woman I fell in love with, you are still you, but without being.

You know? I can’t hate you. I hate not hating you.

I love you, but I know that ours is no longer.