It is all I can hear in my head;

“When you gonna make up your mind? When you gonna love you as much as I do?”

Last night that song sliced into me. It made me remember the final time that I had seen her, and at last I think I understand.

We sat for hours on uncomfortable, plastic chairs in the café at the station. She was on her way home and there had been no cheap tickets without a long layover in Leeds.

She had already broken it off, but we went round and round again. It all came into focus as she looked up at me through her tears and almost vomited out the most bizarre statement;

“I don’t deserve you. I can’t love you the way that you love me. I would be cheating you if I let this go on. You love me too much.”

Not all that bizarre you might think, until I remind you that it was her who had proposed to me.

I know now that she simply could not see what I saw in her; loved in her. The greatest sorrow I have is that she could not think enough of herself – love herself enough – to accept my love for her.