...there was resentment.

I resented her for illuminating the dark places within me, and revealing that which was hidden. For distracting me from my pain. For putting me on a pedestal. For being everything I ever wanted except the one thing I wanted the most.

She resented me for not living up to the expectations born on the day we met. For giving her hope. For making comparisons in my head, comparisons in which she always came up short. For giving her all of me except my heart, for it was my heart that she craved most of all.

None of this is new. We've gone over all this before.

The new thing, the deal-breaker, was that she asked me to make her a promise. She asked me to promise her that it wouldn't happen again. That these feelings I've so carefully bottled up wouldn't come rushing out the next time I saw her or heard her voice. That I'd forever stop thinking of her as a distraction instead of as a focus.

I couldn't make that promise. All I could do was tell her that this time, this time, I really thought I was ready. All I could do was promise to try.

That wasn't good enough, and I don't blame her for feeling that way.

She has, after all, heard it all before.