Nothing can help

We don't talk anymore
I sometimes see you in the parking lot, but I walk right past you. I always wonder if maybe I should smile? Wave?
But there I am, walking right past. It was different once. I told you everything. You were the person that knew me the best. Until you didn't. Until you walked right past me.
Ignored my texts. Ignored all that we had.
So I started ignoring you too.
I stopped trying to smile at you. Trying to wave.
Now I see you walking, standing there with all your new friends in the parking lot. And I wonder if you are as happy with them now as you were with me?
I wonder what made you ignore me.
I wonder why.
I wonder until my head starts to hurt and tears start dripping down my cheeks. And it never does anything good.
I still hope. I still hope that maybe, one day, you will talk to me again. Maybe it could be like the old days.
But that doesn't help me either. It only makes it hurt more. If you could have just told me. If you could have just told me what I did wrong?
I want to scream at you until my throat gives up. Until I'm so sore that I can never speak again.
But that probably wouldn't help either.
I have other friends. But not like we were friends. Not with as much effort as with you. I would do anything for you. I did that. No matter what the matter was. If you were crying in the middle of the night, I was there. And you did the same for me. Until you didn't.
Until you stopped. Until you left me.
Like you tore half of me away and left with it. Now I am a half body, with one arm, with one leg, with a half brain, with no heart, because you took that too.
I go home, sleep, eat, get up, but I can never stop thinking about it. About what happened.
Because nothing happened. You just stopped talking to me. And it hurts so bad, I can't describe it.
So now I walk past you, standing there in the parking lot. And I look at you. And I see you looking at me.
Looking away. Looking back at me. Looking away. And that's all I get.
So I walk away, even though I know my heart is right there.
I can see it, but still I keep walking. I keep walking until I start running.
And then I run until my lungs start to burn.
Until I feel it.
Feel the burn of what you did.
Until it feels like I just might die.
Until I can maybe wipe your face away from my mind.
But it never helps.
Nothing helps.
And I can't change that.