What Happened When He Came Back

Over a week ago, I let him go, and when he came back, I didn’t slam the door in his face like I should have done. Truth is, things haven’t been great since then, and I’m so tired of this shit. I wish I’d slammed that door.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t happy that he came back. For a moment I was. But of course it didn’t last long, it never does with him and it never really does when you believe you made the right decision in letting someone go. Whether I meant for him to be or not, he was under a magnifying glass, and he reminded me of the very reasons I walked away in the first place – his innocent act, the way he never even acknowledged how I felt, and his lame excuse (of course, not the first one I’d heard from him). It’s not that I didn’t believe he was busy, we all are, but it said to me what I already knew: to him, I wasn’t worth making time for. There’s no sugarcoating it.

This isn’t what it should be like. His radio silence, the mundane small talk we exchange. We are better than that, or at least we once were. This is complete and utter shit, and I’m so sick of it. The tears, that voice in my heading telling me I’m not good enough (thanks for replanting that seed, you asshole), all of this fucking shit. His fucking shit. Did I mention how shit this all is? So here it is, a pledge to recognise my own self-worth and to choose my own happiness over a guy. Especially this guy.


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