It plays so well. It flows so well. He must think “damn that girl must be nuts”. She’s not certified . She is brilliant. He doesn’t think “oh, she’s coming around to be near me!”.. and she doesn’t think this is the way it has to be.
“she’s not my type. Why can’t she be more like you?”
Why did you break my heart?
The atmosphere was always difficult to breathe in. Trying to swim but continued to be swallowed in the waves of your inconsistency, your arrogance, your cruelty.
Why did you lie to me, manipulate me, and make me think it was my fault?
“If you could have anything, tell me and I’ll give it to you. “
How could you do that to me, to someone you claimed to love?
Were you really so cruel the whole time, or did I somehow let you become that man? Was it my fault. Is that my fault?
You seemed so perfect in so many ways, and I put you on a pedestal instead of pointing out your faults.
You challenged me in ways that questioned my morals, my judgement, me. Ironic, isn’t it?
The thing is, you are the problem in your own scenario, not me. It was never my job to fix you. We both lived in a time of uncertainty and change in our lives; the difference was that I worked to solve my own problems and tried to support you in yours. You did neither.
I was clearly just another body between your sheets.
I don’t know why I would hold onto someone who would do those things, over and over again, to the woman he supposedly loves.
It’s been months, and I still miss the dream I had of the life I thought I would be living right now. I let myself get comfortable. I let myself believe you would be there for me. I don’t know how I could be so careless. I guess that’s what love does to you; it makes you stupid and reckless with your own heart, except, you did that to me too. You were careless with my heart, and a coward in the end.
I’m sorry that you did all of those things. I won’t tell you that you’ll regret it, or that you’ll miss me. I’m sorry, instead, that you are who you are. You have to live with your own conscience and your own heart, and I don’t think either are what you want them to be.
I may have been the one who got my heart broken, but in the end, I am the one that is free of you. That’s something you’ll never be able to be.
Losing you hurt like hell. It still hurts. I felt like I lost myself, and the more I thought about it, the more I found that it was true.
I loved you so hard and so much. I loved you with everything my heart and my body and my soul had to offer.
After you broke me and the damage had been done, I realized I didn’t recognize any of the broken pieces of myself scattered on the floor.
I wasn’t this girl. I wasn’t the girl who cried herself to sleep, the girl who called a guy hoping he would pick up, the girl who was okay with being an option, and I sure as hell wasn’t the girl who waited around for a guy to make up his mind. Yet, here I was.
There’s so many times that I would tear myself to pieces, analyzing every conversation, wondering what I could have done differently.
I did this to myself for months, knowing that you weren’t losing any sleep over any of it. I found myself putting on your t-shirts, because even just the smallest piece of you brought me comfort.
It didn’t exactly happen overnight, but I just remember waking up one morning and thinking why am I letting him do this to me?
That was the day I realized how much of myself I had given up, and how much I had changed to fit what your idea of perfect was.
I started to do the things I loved again, never even realizing that I had given them up in the first place.
I started going out with my friends, going outdoors, and experiencing everything and anything I could. I listened to the music that I loved but you always hated. I drove with the windows down, and sang my heart out, realizing that I could get through this.
Slowly but surely, I began to recognize myself. What was even more beautiful about it, was that this new me was an even better me than before you.
I found that my heart began to no longer skip a beat when my phone went off, hoping it was you.
I stopped caring about what you would post on social media. I stopped caring about what you had to say to me, altogether. And how empowered I felt, when I found myself packing up your things in a box and sending them back to you because I didn’t need them anymore.
Honestly after everything you put me through, and after this roller coaster of emotions, it really is you that I feel sorry for.
You really missed out; I could have given you everything. I don’t feel sorry for me anymore because I know that you couldn’t give me what I needed, and I deserve every ounce of love and effort that I give.
There are times when I replay memories of us in my mind and I find myself smiling and I start to miss you.
I’m grateful for that because I will always look back on things I shared with you and have no regrets. I loved you, and although things didn’t work out like I hoped they would have, you were still the first person I ever opened myself up to.
One day I will find someone who does that for me in return.
Maybe it will be then, that you realize you are ready to love me. But how sad it will be for you, to see that I found someone who was ready from the beginning.
Think of me when you’re out there. I beg you nice from my knees. ..and when the world treats you way too fairly, well it’s a shame I’m a dream. I could follow you toooo the beginning. Just to RELIVE the start. Maybe then we’d remember to slow down. .at all of our favorite parts.
You put people so high , you hold them at higher standards. You become blinded by the disappointments that you start to lose count. When you finally rid these people in your life, you stop and think about all the messed up situations, all the disappointments, that you become even more devastated. Then you think to yourself, but you don’t know what love is.
I been feeling nothing. Everything I do and everywhere I go, I feel nothing. There’s a hole somewhere in my body and it won’t fill. Out of the blue he texts me, “why is it so hard for you to fight for what you want”. Any decent, intelligent living creature would think okay, he wants me to fight for him. So thinking nothing of it, I texted him back. “Say this to me when I get there”. No response. So I get up , dress and find myself half panting, sweating at his front door. I knocked. I asked was he there and I was let in. I walk around the corner and there he is. Before I am able to speak, he tells me to get out. I mutter to him, you told me to fight, I told you I was coming. “But I didn’t say come, get out, I’m not trying to be rude”. So I turned around and walked peacefully out of his life. I won’t fight anymore. I won’t desire anymore. I won’t. He isn’t my heaven. He isn’t my boyfriend. He isn’t my husband. He isn’t my friend. He’s not my enemy. Love doesn’t live there anymore…and I don’t think I want to love anymore.