we got here.
i honestly didn’t think we ever would. i guess i figured that it would be like how we always imagined it to be- if things didn’t work out, we’d find each other when we’re both twenty one and pick up where we started; if we still were attracted to each other, that is.
we had that conversation while walking from the park back to bayside (the site of our many meltdowns and irrational behavior), maybe six months and six break ups after. the breaking up became a routine at that point, and besides the pain at the initial moment, each one felt like it brought us closer together, no matter how broken we really were. how damaged it was.
we both wanted things to change. and then we didn’t.
there were times i was confident that i was going to get over you- more so, what you had done. after i found about them, i broke off all contact from you. it stung, and it was hard. but a couple of long and painful days later, i felt myself patching myself back up. slowly. but then i saw all of the things you were writing and sending me, and i believed again. a tiny bit of hope brought me back again. i felt secure and loved by you again. i knew it was a mistake to take you back so quickly after such an enormous betrayal, but i didn’t want to think about what was right. i just wanted what i wanted- to go back to being together and doing little things, everything with you. we were so comfortable with each other. we are so comfortable with each other. i refused to think about the aftermath, the inevitable end, and the atheistic me prayed to God that i would forgive and forget. i wanted so badly to believe.
we both know i didn’t. if anything, it became worse. i became worse. i couldn’t stop obsessing over what you had done. what else you could have lied to me about. what else you were still lying to me about. obsessing and eventually getting the truth out of you became a mess of our relationship, and that was another turning point in us. i thought we were really going to end it.
i discovered that you were still lying, and would continue to lie to me. you discovered that i was obsessing, and that most likely, i was never going to stop. it was terrible, and you broke up with me. we spent two nights sleeping on separate beds, without morning kisses and forgotten chatter. those were the worst two nights since i moved in with you.
and then the daniel situation. i admit, i fell for him and i wanted to hurt you. i wanted you to feel the pain of wondering who i was speaking to, feeling the vulnerability of not fully knowing that i would always love you and only you. i’m not proud of how i took it when you were upset, and a part of me wishes i could take it back.
but i chose you again. we went back to us. we were constantly being reckless. and then things escalated from there on.
we started arguing every day. we would go to sleep arguing and wake up cuddling. and soon you’d just want to skip to the cuddling, and that made me more frustrated and more angry. you stopped trying, stopped acting like you gave a crap about us. you just let me bitch, and act like nothing mattered. nothing in the world fucking mattered.
and today happened. you’re sleeping next to me, but deep inside, we both know it’s over. we can’t fix this, or even pretend like we could. it’s never felt so final before. i don’t know if this is finally the closure i’ve been waiting for.
i know you’re tired of listening to me argue about what else is wrong in our relationship, and that you’re probably tired of checking up on my tumblr, reading whatever i post. this will be the last, so at least you get that little luxury.
thanks for everything. i was happy with you.
i wish you the best.
love,
me
i saved you, too.