I know you will probably never read this because even when we were together, you never really appreciated what I do or even tried to understand any of it. I was so stupid that I overlooked this fundamental problem and kept finding a reason to hold on to you and our story, only to be heart-broken and stuck with you for over a year.
It’s such a joke, right?
You broke up with me over Facebook and then deleted me out of your life just by a few clicks as if I had never existed.
Honestly, that was probably the most horrible period of my life following that complete silence treatment from you. I felt numb. I couldn’t make sense of it. Any of it. What did I do wrong? Is there something wrong with me? How could I lose someone so important to me? Did I ever cross your mind? Did you miss me like I couldn’t forget you? There was never an answer for me. All I had was an wounded ego and the self-hate that was internalized into my core. I kept walking down the same road and ended up being even more confused and hurt because I was the one who got left behind and couldn’t let it go completely.
It was so unfair.
I wasn’t even frustrated at you. I was at myself. This me, over a year, was guilty of something that was not my fault. The break up and your silence were both not my fault. It was you and your decisions. My fault was actually the fact that I was too consumed with our story and the idea of you. Of someone who looks like you would be.
My fault was that I refused to see the real you and agreed to establish a delusional relationship in the first place.
I wish you had called, had cared, had shared more about your life and yourself so I could be a part of it too.
But you didn’t. You made me this annoying person who always bothered you just so you would speak to me.
You are not that person I thought you were.
We are not compatible. We don’t understand any bits of each other. We weren’t even trying to. We failed miserably. And you ran away like a coward.
I kept getting back to you to redeem myself. But what I failed to realize was that there was nothing to redeem but all I had to do is to accept that we were done and move the fuck on.
Simply put, the person who hurt you can never make you feel better.
Four days ago, as we both know, we welcomed each other back into our life. I must be a fool, right? You thought I would hate you. I didn’t. I even childishly hoped we would get back together. I pretended to act cool and befriend with you like nothing had ever happened. The truth is it feels like shit! I’ve made it very clear with myself that I’m over you and I know I am. But some-fucking-how, evidently, I’m not.
I suppose it’s my wounded ego that is not over you since I never had a chance to say good-bye to you properly like I should have before you threw at me that lame break-up.
Yes. I just did it. I used the word fucking and all that sort.
I wouldn’t deny that I’m angry. In fact, I WAS angry. I cried some moments ago when I read a post about a girl who got left behind just the way I did. I felt incredibly sympathetic to her since her every words were exactly the same story I would tell. It motivated me to write this open letter to you just so I could let go of the tension inside me and all of you. You don’t need to read this since you’re done with me and I get it. What’s left is me being done with you.
The break-up turned her into an insecure and afraid person. I seriously don’t want to overdo it. If she could move on, then I could too.
Just now I realized, I’m not angry at you. I have no feelings for you. This is a powerful statement.
So, I’m fine.
This moment, I forgive you and your immaturity, which hopefully you had realized.
I officially let go of you and our airport story. It was a good one though.
This paragraph says it all for me,
I kept asking myself what I could have done differently or better, but the reality is, there was nothing. Nothing I could have done, because our breakup wasn’t somehow “performance-based.” It was about a fundamental difference between two people who thought they knew each other but really didn’t. If I did anything wrong, it was in believing that a really great story would also make a really good relationship. Sometimes it does, but sometimes it really, really doesn’t.
P/s: I told you that I would be a poker face, yet I wrote this emotional shit. However, this is the last time I would write anything about you. So I guess it’s safe to say the poker face is a real deal now.