missing

I can't believe he left.
Just like that.
Hating me, still.
And thinking I was so mad at him. Or hating him.
But I am not.
The truth is, I do like him a lot.
We have so much in common. Our taste, attitude, pride.
"Pride is a good thing, until it become a wall"

The sucky part of this whole thing:
1. No more excitement to see his face somewhere. He's no longer around, I have to live with this fact from now on.
2. Because I pretended I hate him, I can't tell anyone how upset I was when a friend of mine broke the news. They thought it was a good news for me.
3. Well, I should've hated him for whatever he had said to me. Why am I so forgiveful? He's been a real jerk to me. And I still liked him, a lot.
4. We never really talked, but I can always sensed there (are or were) sparks between us, that we both hide so carefully.
5. I won't be the one to make the first move. I don't dare. It's too risky, to get hurt. And trust me, he doesn't care either.

This is how it goes. This is how it ends.