I called the shots this time, I was the one who said we shouldn’t continue us if you couldn’t be honest with me. I knew it was the best thing for me in the long run, even if I can’t feel that right now. I haven’t heard from you since then. You didn’t try to explain yourself, you didn’t apologise, and you didn’t convince me to stay. After 5 months, you didn’t bat an eyelid or give a fuck. Because I’m that disposable to you. I wasn’t worthy of a reply, you didn’t have the decency to say goodbye. And even though I called the shots, I’m the one hurting the most.
I wanted you to be different, and so I saw what I wanted to believe. I attributed qualities to you – selflessness, compassion, empathy and honesty. Now I’m not sure you’re capable of possessing any of those.
I think of you, going about your life without a second thought or a pause – talking to the next girl on your list, already forgetting me and those sweet words you said less than two weeks ago. You haven’t thought about me at all. But for me, even so much as brushing my hair or making my bed seem like too much effort. I could hide underneath my duvet, but what would it achieve? So instead, I woke up this morning armed with a list of things to keep me busy. I bought lingerie especially for you, for us. I returned it today. I threw away the underwear I know you like. I hid the journal I’ve been writing in – filled with my sad words on your actions. I didn’t want any more trace of you.
I might look like a wreck right now with my messy hair, and my face unwashed. But let me tell you, the most beautiful things are yet to come, and they will. It’s the way I will pick up the pieces of the mess you made, and I’ll repair myself into someone stronger. It’s how I still forgive you for sleeping with her, for lying to me about it twice, and for the way you didn’t respect me enough to cancel our dates, instead going silent days before. It’s me, standing up for myself against the chaos you brought into my life, all because I know I deserve more. It’s the way I can still see a glimpse of goodness, despite everything you have done. I don’t think you’re a bad person, I think you are broken.
I’m sure you don’t care about how I cut things off – you couldn’t even muster up a reply to my last two texts, so why would you care? But I don’t think this is the end of our story either. I believe you’ll be back (it’s always the way), acting as if nothing ever happened. And to be honest, I’m not sure I’ll know how to react.