“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.