I think you have done it at last. You have finally and completely broken my heart and pushed me right over the edge, to a place even you may find it difficult to bring me back from.
Not that you haven't been trying, not that I shouldn't have seen this coming had I not had my head blissfully buried in sand. It was always quite clear that I was your very last priority, and you would only choose me - if it can be called choice - once you had exhausted every other realistic opportunity; and even then you would be perennially poised on the brink of departure, a part of you ceaselessly scanning the social airwaves, should something else turn up. I don't think I ever asked for much but you were cautious even with careless crumbs. You made me beg for the smallest audience with you and never once did you make me feel that you actually cared for me, that I was even on your radar. I do not recall your ever making any effort to be with me or doing something delicious and unpredictable for me, and I wonder to this day if you ever actually realized that I am a proper human with feelings that could be hurt.
I guess now you know. Or, do you?