Everyday I wake up with the same lost feeling, I reach for my phone thinking that you would come back and say that you’re sorry. I would hope that you would understand what you did. That my giving towards you would have some sort of lasting impact. But you left. You left without a fight. Without a need for a second chance.
Even worse, you made me do it. You made me experience the pain of detachment, the pain of losing myself for a person who never appreciated anything. It’s so funny now that saying the things out loud I did for you compared to the things you did for me makes it obvious that this was a one-sided love. Yet you still chose to keep me, even when I asked you if anything was wrong. Now I know the reason why, because you didn’t want to feel the guilt of being a bad person. You didn’t want to be the one to say goodbye. You didn’t want to be responsible for the things you did. You blamed it on your career, your friends, your school, your family. You blamed everyone but yourself. And when I did finally say goodbye, you broke down.
You told me all the pain you were going through, again blaming it all on others, and never taking responsibility. I didn’t even feel any sort of relief, any sort of forgiveness, because you still don’t understand how badly you hurt me. How badly you made me question my sanity and my own self-worth. Even my friends begged me to leave you, but I was the one protecting you, telling them that they don’t know who you are, that everything will be ok, that WE will be ok.
And even now with the rose colored glasses off, I still don’t understand you. The words you speak don’t define your actions. The way you carry yourself doesn’t show your true intentions. You took my love and swallowed it whole, and you only gave me bread crumbs to survive on. Yet you always said you loved me. You told me that you wish I wasn’t so normal. Yet you told me that you loved me still. You constantly kept me confused over your actions, your choices, your priority over us, and your constant need to avoid any sort of affection towards me. Yet, you still told me you loved me.
And by some chance you are reading this, by some godly miracle. I never wanted to leave, but your actions told me you did. I’m not mad at you even though I should be. Yet it seems you are mad at me. And even to this day, whenever I think about you, all I can muster in my mind is the word confusion, because that’s how I felt every day being with you, and whether you like it or not, a simple text of reassurance and communication would have solved every single issue we had. But that was too much for you, wasn’t it? You chose your pride, your ego, every single time. So good luck, I really hope you are happy being either alone or, with someone else.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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