There are so many things I want to tell you right now over text to make you realize why I want to move on now, but it just doesn’t feel right to commit them to a digital screen. You wouldn’t understand, and the words deserve much more. If I had the strength to say them in person, I would recite them like a well-versed poem, and have you tear at the end because of its sheer honesty and raw beauty. But my memory is terrible, and I panic quite easily. So I’ve found a way right through the middle, to do what I think I do best: write it down, right now, as my emotions are strongest.
I shudder at the thought of you sharing our story to strangers and making me out to be the villain. You probably tell them how I ripped your heart out and stomped all over it by dating someone else a month after our breakup. But they don’t know. You don’t even know.
I never told you this; I never got to tell you much, given the abrupt circumstances of our breakup. But I was dissatisfied weeks before we ended. When I try and recall all the reasons why we broke up, it branches far deeper than the other girls you’d constantly check out. We had so many issues, both individually and collectively. Trust, playing a big role. I never trusted you fully after all the shit you put me through. Which is why, I realized, the reason for my constant paranoia. Is it any way to live, keeping the person you “love” on a leash? No, of course not. You deserve to be happy and have fun, which is why I’m glad you’re enjoying your time with friends now. You deserve to enjoy your youth. Three years with me, you never danced. Four weeks without me and you’re fist-pumping at clubs. It’s bittersweet, but I’m happy you’ve finally found it in yourself to let loose. It makes me realize how stupid I made you feel. How I’d belittle you and pull a face at the little things you found cool- like your new haircuts, and even your attempt to dress in a more fashionable manner. I guess I wanted to keep you beneath me, the same way you tried to keep me beneath you by feeding all of my insecurities. I’m sure you never intended for it to be that way, but it started from the very beginning of our relationship. You made me feel like I was never enough. What did those girls have that I didn’t? Was I not your type? Was I not pretty enough? Not hot enough? I didn’t like the right things? A million questions of insecurity racing through my head.
I was always so lonely. Being lonely and insecure is never a good combination. It made me live in fear. Fear that I would never find anyone better than you, and fear that I would never be happy alone. I clung to you in fear. I spent every day with you because I was afraid of being alone. My issues about having no family and no friends, you were all I had. And so I made sure you filled up every crevice of every day so I would never have to be alone. It wasn’t fair to you- for me to cling to you, to make myself such a big part of your life, and then suddenly leave.
As time went by, I realized how much I was growing up. Slowly, my self-esteem was rebuilding itself because I was finally proud of myself- I was doing more than most people my age, and I was making some great friends in the process. Unfortunately for you, it made me realize my worth. It made me realize that the conversations I was having with these people were so much deeper than the ones I was having with you. I loved spending time with you- it was silly, it was fun, but it was so childish. I look back now and realize that I can’t remember a single conversation that really struck me deep. Whenever I’d have problems, you’d tell me how you were there for me, but you never really told me anything that stimulated my mind and made me think. Our happiness was shallow, and I just stopped being satisfied.
Don’t you remember? I’d be silent in the car and tell you how you were starting to sound a bit dense, and you’d blame it on the people you hang out with since their humor was dense, too. You didn’t realize how important it was to me that we had good conversation. You didn’t realize how much I need someone intelligent enough to argue with me about things like religion, humanity, and other abstract ideas. I would always notice how much you cared about what other people thought of you, and it bothered me so much. I could never understand why your eyes were always searching for people you might know, why you were just so goddamn concerned. I loved the you who had holey boxers and bad morning hair, who would make churros with me in his kitchen and carry his dogs on his shoulders. That was my favorite version of you, skipping plans so we could cuddle under the blanket and watch Ryan Gosling movies. But that version of you wasn’t enough for me. You can’t play forever. You need to grow up sometime and prove that the past years are actually going somewhere.
I guess that’s another problem. We were together for three years by the time we were nineteen. We were insecure, lonely, and lacking trust. I honestly think we were doomed. The more I think of a way to put it, the more my mind goes back to the phrase “our relationship had run its course”. It was just time for us to go our separate ways.
And now, I hear stories about you going out every weekend, getting really drunk, meeting loads of new people, and it honestly makes me a bittersweet shade of happy. I’m happy you’re finally cutting loose and enjoying your youth. You deserve to stop being so straight edge and actually have fun with your friends. They say that this is the most they’ve ever liked you. It hurts a bit, to know that there are so many girls around you now, that you're deteriorating your health, but you deserve to be young.
That night I talked to you; I realized the depth of my loneliness. It’s the product of being so far away from family, and the reason behind my suffocating grip, my aloofness, and my suicidal thoughts. I realized how important it is that I fix it before it ruins me and turns me into the type of girl that falls for any guy who spares her a compliment- before I get into another relationship and ruin some poor boy’s life by forcing him to dedicate his days to me.