This is the last time I will think about us.

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.