Thursday, January 30, 2014

Damn, this is so well said. I'm blown away.

I Don’t Hate You. I Just Love Me. Bye. | Thought Catalog


It seems as though I’ve been holding hands with a memory of you for a while. You see, the contrast between the good and the bad in this situation was so defined, that it was easy for me to rheumatoid arthritis grip on to any of the positive in our relationship (if you can call it that). I understand exactly how you’re probably feeling and that’s why I’ve come to this conclusion.

I’m not mad at you, I’m not sad, not even disappointed.

I’m just done.

That requires me to feel nothing but hope towards my future as I wave goodbye to that cute button nose of yours.

The easiest thing to do is forget how much space you took up in somebody else’s life, and that’s just what you did. You filled the space that I had for you in my life with things that didn’t pertain to me at all and that’s okay.

People like people. Sometimes it doesn’t work out.

I’m sure you’ll scramble for any excuses to make me understand your vacancy or make me pity you. That’s just the lost child in you that wants someone there; not me.

My life is real; so don’t treat me like it isn’t.

You blame the awful way you treat me on your ex girlfriends. By blaming them, it shows that they still have power over you and I don’t want someone who doesn’t have control over himself. You pushed me to do things I didn’t want to do and then you blamed me for them, basically abandoning me so that you could feel better about what you are responsible for.

Also, given this humbling moment of rejection for me, I would appreciate if you don’t pity me. This is my journey, and just because you didn’t love me, doesn’t mean someone won’t.

I will find love, and it will be beautiful.

I know you probably think that I’m butt-hurt or mildly offended by your utmost consistence at being disrespectful. In all honesty, I just feel bad for you.

I can read you like a book and you’re not interesting to me anymore because what I see isn’t appealing. I like myself, and I treat myself better than you ever will.

I know what you’re thinking and to answer your question: No, it’s not because I love someone else, it’s because I love myself. The way you treated me was an extension of how you feel about yourself, and by the looks of it, you pretty much hate yourself. Given the instances where I tried to calmly express my feelings to you, and your innate ability to brush them off with angry entitled defensiveness I understand your blatant insecurity like I understand photosynthesis.

My Dad always told me that the right person will move mountains to see me, and if they didn’t: Drop it like it’s hot.

I can’t carry the weight of your insecurities and issues. I only have two hands.

I hope that you learn from this experience or at least think of me fondly.

And please, don’t call. I won’t answer. Kind of like you didn’t.

But hey, at least I had the courage to tell you.

Bye

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