This is the last time
I will think about us.
I wanted to write
that this is the last time I will think about you, but I know I can’t do that.
There will always be something that would remind me of you, the man who broke
not just my heart, but who broke me.
I would always see
places that we went to, always see things that meant something to the both of
us, always see someone who knew us.
I think the random
things that would send signals to my brain and produce an image of you are out
of my control, but I know I can decide to not ever think about us again.
The us that once was.
The us that I secretly, silently, hoped would come back at some point in time.
The you that was kind
to me, and the me that meant something to you.
The you who would
have given me the moon, the stars, and the universe, and the me who you wanted
more than anything else but never truly loved.
The you who never
failed to call me everyday and would always ask me how I am and how my day
went. The me who would always pretend to not care but who would always flash a
megawatt smile whenever I saw your name on my phone.
The you who made me
feel so special and would surprise me with sweet little nothings. The me who would
gush even at just the sight of your smile.
The you who made
these grand plans for us. The me who always said that it was too soon to make
all these plans but who secretly held on to each little word you said but never
meant.
Yes, this will be the
last time, because finally, I understand why it was for the best for us to part
ways.
Not that I condone
how you left me high and dry, but now I understand why it had to be that way.
Why I had to see you
turn into this heartless person who had no concern at all for me.
Why I had to endure
and swallow every bitter word you said when you willingly, shamelessly, and
thoroughly explained why you didn’t want me anymore.
Why you always made
it clear that I shouldn’t expect anything from you and yet left a little light
of hope for that “maybe someday” just so I would stick around.
Why you so conveniently
labeled us “friends” even though we never were and you never treated me like a “friend”
would.
Why you made me feel
that I had to earn the privilege of being loved by someone like you.
Why you coldly just
answered “I don’t know” when I asked you whether or not I’m a bad person.
Why you promised to
talk to me when you were ready but never did.
Why you just kept me
hanging there and bled me dry until finally I got too weak to keep holding on.
I understand now that
I had to go through all those things to be where I am now.
To heal, to learn, to
grow, to flourish.
Yes, I have decided
to forgive you a long time ago. I still decide that everyday, but no, I have
not forgotten how painful it was to be betrayed, berated, and to be taken
advantage of.
I think I never will
forget, but I know that someday even if I remember I would not feel any pain.
I know someday I
would not only tell myself but would also truly believe that you are not a bad
person just because you did bad things to me.
This is the last time
I will think about us, the you and the me that once was and never will be
again.
I wish you all the
best.
