Stop. Just stop.
Stop with the emails, FB messages, the gifts, the calls. And then when you've stopped, repeat after me: 'too little, too late'.
It strikes me from your incessant emails that your recollection of our time together differs vastly from mine, so let me share some of my memories with you. I remember being a back burner girlfriend, a woman who sat around while her man chased women as though he was still single. I remember feeling like crap more often than not because you made me feel as though I was not enough. I used to think I didn't deserve you. Now I know how true that statement really was - I didn't deserve you. I deserved much better. You recently wrote that our good times far outnumbered our bad times. I disagree. Of course, that could be because you caused most of the bad times and inflicted them on me. And the illusion that you're habouring of us having remained friends after we broke up? Pfft! We weren't friends while we were dating; I considered us even less so post-breakup.
I find it ironic that you have shown me more attention in the past three months than I feel you showed me during our two years together. But then it struck me ... I have become to you exactly what those other women were - someone beyond your reach. You chased me until you had me and then turned your eyes to the next prey. And then the next. And then the next. Now, despite a three month long silence on my part, you continue to want me back in your life. You always said that with every action, there is a consequence. Well, your actions pushed me away. There's your consequence.
Despite it all, I am thankful for the lessons you taught me. I learned that when a guy comes out and tells you that he is selfish and that it is all about him, run for the nearest door. I learned that when he can get up, prepare himself a meal without even asking you if you want anything, it is time to burn rubber. I learned that concessions are not meant for only one person to make alone. I learned that three strikes applies to a ball game and not the amount of times I should forgive you for shit you had no business doing in the first place. I learned that it takes a lot more effort to pretend you're happy than it does to just find someone new who makes your happiness their priority.
So, the next time you're sick for another six months, find someone who will sit up with you at 4 am while you text gibberish in your hallucinatory state. Someone who will accompany you to your doctor appointments and advocate for your treatment. Someone who will stay with you for days upon end because the minute she leaves, you just sit and quiver on the couch until she returns. Someone who will lose sleep worrying whether you will actually try to off yourself after learning you had conceived a plan to do just that. Someone else who will help take care of your dad when you are too busy with work and your siblings cannot be bothered. Someone to run your errands. Someone as pathetic as I used to be.
So you're lonely now? Too bad, so sad. Call Ella. Maybe she'll care. Maybe she won't. But rest assured that I don't. Your happiness is no longer my priority, not even my concern. I do not wish you any ill; that would take consideration of you on my part. Instead, I don't think of you at all. I am too busy being happy again in a way I had forgotten people can be happy.
So stop. Just stop. Do did done.
Stop with the emails, FB messages, the gifts, the calls. And then when you've stopped, repeat after me: 'too little, too late'.
It strikes me from your incessant emails that your recollection of our time together differs vastly from mine, so let me share some of my memories with you. I remember being a back burner girlfriend, a woman who sat around while her man chased women as though he was still single. I remember feeling like crap more often than not because you made me feel as though I was not enough. I used to think I didn't deserve you. Now I know how true that statement really was - I didn't deserve you. I deserved much better. You recently wrote that our good times far outnumbered our bad times. I disagree. Of course, that could be because you caused most of the bad times and inflicted them on me. And the illusion that you're habouring of us having remained friends after we broke up? Pfft! We weren't friends while we were dating; I considered us even less so post-breakup.
I find it ironic that you have shown me more attention in the past three months than I feel you showed me during our two years together. But then it struck me ... I have become to you exactly what those other women were - someone beyond your reach. You chased me until you had me and then turned your eyes to the next prey. And then the next. And then the next. Now, despite a three month long silence on my part, you continue to want me back in your life. You always said that with every action, there is a consequence. Well, your actions pushed me away. There's your consequence.
Despite it all, I am thankful for the lessons you taught me. I learned that when a guy comes out and tells you that he is selfish and that it is all about him, run for the nearest door. I learned that when he can get up, prepare himself a meal without even asking you if you want anything, it is time to burn rubber. I learned that concessions are not meant for only one person to make alone. I learned that three strikes applies to a ball game and not the amount of times I should forgive you for shit you had no business doing in the first place. I learned that it takes a lot more effort to pretend you're happy than it does to just find someone new who makes your happiness their priority.
So, the next time you're sick for another six months, find someone who will sit up with you at 4 am while you text gibberish in your hallucinatory state. Someone who will accompany you to your doctor appointments and advocate for your treatment. Someone who will stay with you for days upon end because the minute she leaves, you just sit and quiver on the couch until she returns. Someone who will lose sleep worrying whether you will actually try to off yourself after learning you had conceived a plan to do just that. Someone else who will help take care of your dad when you are too busy with work and your siblings cannot be bothered. Someone to run your errands. Someone as pathetic as I used to be.
So you're lonely now? Too bad, so sad. Call Ella. Maybe she'll care. Maybe she won't. But rest assured that I don't. Your happiness is no longer my priority, not even my concern. I do not wish you any ill; that would take consideration of you on my part. Instead, I don't think of you at all. I am too busy being happy again in a way I had forgotten people can be happy.
So stop. Just stop. Do did done.
