There was a boy in my life that I learned to love. For more than four years he had tried to win me, and had finally succeeded. He told me he loved me and made me believe it. He was more important to me than anyone or anything. Everything was wonderful. I had never been happier. He had even asked me if I would marry him. Then, one day, he decided I wasn't worth his time anymore. He decided I was too childish for him, and that I would never change. After four years of trying, and finally succeeding, he leaves me for a reason I have yet to understand. Working it out would have been so easy. There was no point in breaking up. But he wouldn't even consider trying to change things. It was like trying to reason with a brick wall. So here I am, alone again, wishing he had at least tried. It wouldn't have taken much, just a little time and effort, worth it in the long run. He stood by his decision that the relationship wasn't worth saving. My feelings, once reeling with anger, hurt, confusion, frustration, betrayal, and sadness, can now be summed up in one final word: disappointment. I really thought he loved me more than that. I thought that it was worth a try. My eyes are finally dry, and all I can say for how I feel is that I'm merely disappointed. A shrug to say that I'll do better next time, I'll find someone who will love me enough to fight to stay no matter how bad things get. A sigh to say that I'll move on, and my heart will start beating again as time goes by. A grin to say that I should have known better, promises like his are made to be broken. And the will to keep on living, because I'm strong enough to survive a mere break up. He didn't love me like he said he did, and always would. That is entirely his loss.