"It's not you, it's me."

Those overused words are the ones that continue to echo off the walls of my brain as I think about what happened so quickly and how everything changed.

I went to school today and I knew. I guess you could say I knew it all along. I could tell by the way you ignored me all weekend. I could tell by the dull sound in your voice, by the way you didn't walk me to class or kiss me goodbye. Yet I was still surprised. I wasn't that surprised when you told me we needed to talk or when you dragged me across the room. No I was surprised how you said it. I could tell by the monotone voice you used to say the overused line that is still echoing off the walls of my ever active mind: "it's not you, it's me." I was surprised you would stoop that low. Leaving me, I understand, but the way you did it will always take me by surprise. The man I knew would give an explanation. The man I knew would do it alone. The man I knew wouldn't leave me in tears. 
But when I looked up at you through my tear filled eyes I didn't see the man I once and still loved. No, I saw a boy who didn't have the decency to say anything special or give an explanation. I saw a coward. I saw a boy who wouldn't look me in the eyes. I saw a boy who left with a small meaningless goodbye. I can't envision the man I loved anymore because when I think of him I can only see the cowardly boy looking down as he utters blankly, "it's not you, it's me."