If getting over you is the hardest thing I ever have to do, I promise this is the last time. No more excuses, no more tears. No more looking through old messages, hunting for clues. I scrolled for hours, searching for evidence of how we fell in love to begin with, but without the veil of your affection, all your clever words revealed an ugly truth – you never loved me. You must have been truly sorry for all the unintended hurt, you allowed the ambiguity to survive, so I could be responsible for the misunderstanding. All those times I said those three dangerous words and you replied “I know”, I thought you really did. But you had no idea how much I loved you really, you wouldn’t have let me if you did.
If falling in love is the stupidest thing in the world, I must be a certified idiot. I started to count our forevers the first time I came home to hug you and you kissed me like it was the most natural thing in the world. I began to hate the times that you had to be away and resent all those who stole your attention. I had never been a jealous person before, so when I called you for the 23rd time and reached your voice mail again I didn’t know what else to do but cry. When she picked up at last and you pretended not to know why I was angry, it was already too late for me to say a dignified goodbye.
If I could make myself not like you, I would do it this instant. I would forget all the cheesy moments and childish things we said that seemed romantic at the time. I would throw away all your presents and delete every photo, dye my hair purple and cut it in a way you would never approve of. I dug out all the pieces of clothing you hid from my wardrobe, and laughed at how I never noticed how controlling you were until it was over. I can count all the times you said “I love you” to me on one hand, and to be honest I still don’t quite understand why that should haunt me when I know you never meant it.
If that boy hadn’t kissed me good night, I don’t know how I could have survived. If he hadn’t put his arms around me, I might have faded away and you would never get to read my thoughts again. If he had talked too much and asked difficult questions, I would have run away like I always did, and he wouldn’t have had the chance to make me want to stay. I thought maybe if I kissed him enough I would forget you, so we kissed all night and never said a word. If every time I take my clothes off in front of another stranger, I hate myself a little more, maybe that makes you right. If the way I conduct my life is terrible, maybe I’ve always been terrible and it doesn’t matter now that you’re no longer here to judge me.
If I could kill myself tonight and no one would miss me, I think I would. If only I was a little more selfish, a little more brave, and a little more sure of which method would cause the least pain. It would be a temporary solution to a permanent problem, because even in death, I would still miss you. You might not believe me when I say this, but I’m still glad to have been in your life, to have loved you so much it was almost a crime. So even if I’m buried ten feet underground, you’ll still hear my ghost cry out your name. I just won’t be able to call you anymore, and you won’t have to suffer seeing my name on your screen again.