You say you love me, but I know that’s not true, because you don’t even know what love is.
And I don’t say this frivolously, because I don’t want anything more than to believe and know that it’s true. But I can’t.
You can be in love with someone you barely know, like having a crush, you know. And that’s it. You barely know me, you know nothing of significance about me.
That’s why you don’t love me, but you love the version of me you created in your mind. You only saw my frame and filled it with your conceivabilities of who I am. But that doesn’t make up me and accordingly you don’t love me, you love a chimaera. I’m so sorry. For both of us.