A letter to the one who broke my heart.
3am, and I was up reading our old messages on Facebook. Part of me maybe thought they would remind me of the bad moments, of the fights, of the times when I felt so lost and scared. And that would make this–not talking, not existing in each others lives–easier. I said I wanted to pretend the last six years never happened, and yet I just can’t let go. I don’t want to think about you, to miss you, to still be crying over you. I don’t want to torture myself with your letters, and your promises that I would always be in your heart (you lied). I know this is for the better, that now I can be free, and I can find someone who loves all of me. Completely. But even still I hate you for killing us, for taking away my best friend, for taking away the only boy who knew me entirely. I hate you for making me question love, and if it’s ever really worth it. I hate you for lying to me everyday, for not telling me how you felt, for turning to someone else. I could have been there for you, I wanted to be there, and I would have listened. But you wouldn’t ever let me in–you pushed me away, you left me standing out in the cold. And now I’m alone, all alone, and I hate you for that. You filled my life, you made yourself my everything, and now I’m left with this huge gaping hole I just can’t seem to fill.
All I want is to understand why–why I was never good enough for you.
And I hate you for making me feel like I’ll never be good enough for anyone.