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When he's affectionate, I feel generic. What used to make me feel so special, so loved for the first time, when viewed through a veil of realism, is coincidental. If it were another girl there, he'd be holding her. He'd be loving her the same. He loves more readily than I. This is as it should be.
When he's angry, I understand. I'm relieved at the small signs of admittance that I am not a benefit to him anymore, and I feel justified in being upset. This is as it should be. Sad as it makes me to displease him, it has a feel of rightness to it, like I'm always displeasing him and he only occasionally allows himself to admit it.
But when he's indifferent, I break. The only signs of passion is in the form of arguments about things that neither of us really care about. It's like I'm a caricature of an unpleasant girlfriend and he's defending himself against my accidental nagging. But it never seems to really matter to him. Some part of him is just waiting for me to step aside so that he can go back to enjoying himself. This is familiar. This isn't the first time that I've seen someone reach this point in their feelings for me. This is as it should be.
This is what I was striving for, to some degree. This indifference. I wanted him to be comfortable being close to me, to take me as a part of himself or a part of the scenery, and use me as a journal. I wanted him to feel okay loving someone and admitting it, sharing his life with people without feeling obligated to play host. But I always knew that I couldn't keep him. I always knew that he needed better, more stable, and that he could never love me the way I loved him. I've loved two people in my life, while I've heard him utter "I love you" to girl after girl since we've met. This isn't wrong of him. This is how it should be.
I brought them together with that in mind, knowing what it meant for me. Preparing myself to bow out, having accomplished my goal. They're perfect together. Everything is perfect except for me. I can't let him go, and it feels like I'm digging my claws in as I cling for dear life. He could discard me like old, broken toy I am and I would leave him be. If I didn't need him so much, if I could just be indifferent, everything would be so good for him.