You just left.
I watched your car drive away into the distance of my long street. I watched as the red lights veered around the corner until it was virtual black at the top of the street, with slight light emanating off of the street lamp a few feet down the next road. I watched for minutes, moments, and what seemed to be hours hoping maybe you'd come back, but you never did. I strolled dismally into my house, greeted by my barking dog, and a half-lit home. I went up to my room; sitting on the edge of the bed, I immediately burst into tears thinking, "I shouldn't have kissed him, I should have never asked him to come over. I fucked up, again." Not because of anything that you did while you were here, but because any time that there is the slightest bit of hope; a slight glimmer in your eyes that says you might want me back, I get so excited. Exceeding the limits of hopefulness, each time, I am let down by a less than surprising move on your part. I give you love, kindness, trust, friendship, and so much more, and you give me... hope that something that will never get better will get better. Your gift is the worst and best gift in the entire world. The worst because, my hopes are so high that you'll be mine again, I don't see the forest through the trees, and I don't realize this cycle is never going to end. The best because for those thirty seconds where my hopes are up, I'm the happiest I will ever be. I'm willing to be hurt one thousand times over, as long as in between the hurt, I get to feel like you still love me.
Just remember that I'm here, and always will be.