Midnight rant: Ode to my codependent lover

Sometimes I can't sleep and I write unfiltered unedited stuff that pop in my mind; I call these creativity and energy peaks: midnight rants.

Ode to my codependent lover
When I first saw you I didn't pay much attention, you were just another boy in a crowded high school, with whom I didn't have many conversations.
When you first saw me, your heart raced, your jaw dropped, and your palms got sweaty. You didn't know what to say, you froze.
Time went by and nothing happened. I didn't notice you, you didn't do much.
How could you, when you got choked up just by being near me? How could you if your heart had already suffered enough with normal humans, what would happen with an idealized person?
Years after, a simple invitation changed everything: a birthday party. Your birthday party.
I went because I had nothing better to do. Now it was you who didn't notice me.
Next days we talked, with innocent mockery and simple fun. Nights without sleep, clinging to a shiny screen in the middle of a dark room, just to read your next comment, just to feel each other closer. The beginning of relationships with smartphones. Nights without rest, because our heads and hearts couldn't settle down. Happy nights of anticipation and excitement. The rush, the laughter, the smiles.
Our first dates, amazing. We couldn't stop talking, laughing and enjoying each other's company. I remember staring at your lips when you talked, I wanted to kiss you so bad I wasn't paying attention to what you were saying. But I was so afraid. I didn't want you to think I wasn't a "nice girl". You always looked at me with wonderful admiration and self-pride, as if being with me was something to show off. I remember being bold about my outfit choices, wearing makeup and uncomfortable shoes. So unlike me. I remember you wearing too much cologne and you couldn't hide how nervous you were. I clearly remember you shaking whenever I came near you. And I tried to hide how broken I felt.
With you, I felt complete, comfortable, safe, functional.
With my history of co-dependent relationships, you'd think I would know better. I didn't. Maybe I still don't.
We slowly but surely morphed into comfortable unhappiness, into unpassionate mediocrity that somehow was better than nothing. Wrong, of course.  I renounced myself again and again without realizing what I was doing. I gave you so much power, responsibility and work that I've should've done for myself. I relinquished every part of my true self, every day, with every choice.
You did too. And soon enough both of us disappeared.
We became a blob, a boring, gray, uninteresting blob of safety.
You're a hopeless romantic, you've always been. So yes, being with the problematic girl and playing the martyr has its perks.
Somewhere in that mess, you became my life support. Somewhere, all I had was you. And all you had was me.
I forgot what emotional freedom feels like and what standing in your own two feet really is. I forgot how good it feels to be in complete control of my life. And I just gave it to you. You just gave it to me.
We didn't know better.

But now I do. We don't, I do.
How do I do those things: declare my freedom, stand on my own feet, make myself responsible for my mistakes and shortcomings, when being with you makes me forget? How do I stay with you if I now know, that it will only lead to murder? To literally killing my essence? I don't want that.
But you haven't noticed how bad we are for each other. You haven't noticed how dangerous this game is. You have no idea how much we will suffer if I let this continue. You think that what is at stake is a joke, secondary, or even non-existent.
I don't want to hurt you, I don't want to take everything away from you. I know how this hurts, it's been done to me. But you won't do it for me. You won't give up, not because you truly love me, just because you're afraid.
And I'm afraid.
This can't go on.