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Re: Say something you wish you could say to their face. -
January 16th 2018, 04:55 AM
I saw a phone case that had an attachment for a fidget spinner, and I immediately pulled out my phone to send you a picture. I had taken the photo before I remembered that I deleted your number, and you unfriended me on all social media. I stood in the middle of that aisle and the world around me went silent as I heard you scream (all over again) "never talk to me again, you fucking bitch." I had to leave immediately before I began crying in public.
J asked me why we broke up, and all I could say was that I realized we were better off without each other. K intervened and called you a douche-bag (later on, in private, she would refer to you as an abusive douche-bag - I wouldn't go so far). I said that we both made mistakes, and I had to make the decision to leave because I knew you wouldn't. J said that was an extremely mature decision.
I found this photograph of me when I was five. This picture was taken on my first day of kindergarten and I look so excited. I remember that day, I remember how grown up I felt. I think I was more capable of handling life at five than I am at twenty, or at least I had more confidence at five. It hurts to look at that photograph though, because it reminds me of your little sister. I didn't ask about her post break-up because I knew it would only serve to piss you off (though you never took that into consideration when you turned pissy because you didn't get to continue a relationship with my siblings post break-up), but I miss her. I miss her a lot. And I don't know what she was told about me or why I'm no longer coming around. With how blunt your family is, I'm sure she was told that I'm a bitch that broke her brother's heart. Probably in those exact words. What did you do with the stuffed animal I made her?
Do you know that I found the flower I made you? I don't know if you left it on that desk on purpose, or if it fell out of your bag and someone moved it to the desk. But I found it. And as I held it in my hands, I began crying. Full-on crying in front of a half dozen people. Someone tried to take it out of my hands, but I wouldn't let them. I wanted to be the one to throw it away; I needed to be the one to throw it away. This little flower that took me five minutes to make, that I sprayed with my perfume and you kept on the dashboard of your car. It was so small. So meaningless. But the fact that I found it discarded is what broke me. You got rid of every part of me, even the smallest and most insignificant.
You told me multiple times that I came to the decision to break up too easily, but that's not true. It wasn't something I decided on in 90-minutes like you claim, I truthfully had been thinking about it for a month. I spent so many nights crying myself to sleep in fear that you were going to break up with me. I remember when you texted me, asking me to set aside time to talk the next day. I told a friend you were going to break up with me, and realized that even if you didn't, I had to break up with you. You have no idea how much I cried that night, or how much I drank the days after, or how little I ate for a week.
Here we are, almost four months post break up and you're still in my head. Here's to the second beer I'm drinking, on a not-quite empty stomach (I've been eating more, if you care anymore). Classes start tomorrow and you won't be there because you graduated. I don't know if that brings me comfort or hurt. You graduated early for me, thinking that we would get married this upcoming summer. But that's not happening. I'm thankful that I don't have to worry about running into you on campus, but I'm going to miss seeing you walk between buildings. No matter how much I deny it, I'm still in love with you. I don't want to be, and I shouldn't be, but I am.
But hey, at least I get to start back up therapy this week, so maybe that'll help? Who knows. I hope it does. I know she thinks life will be easier for me when I don't have to see you all the time, and maybe it will. Maybe sitting in my house for hours every day for the past five weeks has negatively impacted my mental health (who am I kidding, I know that it has). Hopefully, getting back to a regular school schedule will help me be less anxious and depressed.
Here's to a year that you've become another stranger. I can't say I'm happy about that, but there's nothing I can do to change it.
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