I grew angry with you; I felt used and disrespected. This is not who you were to me.
I started feeling sorry for myself because I couldn’t see you anymore as the good and caring person you once were.
I never once doubted that you loved me; I never thought you were capable of faking that. And yet, now more than ever, I think you were just used to me—my presence, to what you call feeling calm.
Calmness was what made you understand that you loved me.
Did you? I don’t think so.
After a few months, I find myself liking someone new. He is different; he’s kind, but you can’t tell. He’s sad, but you can’t tell. He’s shy, but you can’t tell. He’s delicate. He probably does not even like me and just sees me as a friend, but he’s truly respectful towards me. He makes me laugh so hard sometimes I can’t even breathe. I feel dizzy whenever he touches me, and every time he’s around, I feel anxious.
Who would have thought, a few months ago, when I was still sleeping with you—same bed—that I would like someone like this? I was so invested in you, body and soul; I would have sold my soul to be by your side, to fight for us. And now I feel like I wasn’t even considering how I felt, how miserable I was with you.
I found myself thinking about you. I looked at your pictures and felt so dumb. I see someone I don’t even recognize in my head right now. My consideration of you is so low that it hurts to see your face. You have such a kind face, kind features—the one I fell in love with—and now it feels like it was a bad illusion. The illusion of having someone who respected me as a person, but you didn’t. Maybe you never did. You knew I was going to be there for you no matter what, and you still took advantage of my kindness.
I know I do not love you anymore. I only feel sad for what I think of you.
I feel sad because I thought I knew you, but maybe I was so wrong. I feel like, in some way, every time people after me get worse, and then when they get better, they come back.
I fear you coming back because I fear still feeling pity for you. I fear thinking back on us and feeling disgusted. I fear your presence because I think you will once again try to take advantage of me.
Seeing your pictures hurts—hurts so bad—because you are someone I once loved, but not anymore.
Because I can’t see you the same way I used to.
I wish I could be kinder to you, but I don’t think you deserve it. Sometimes I wish you had told me you’re sorry, but I think it’s best that you stay away from me from now on.