“I love you and this hurts so fucking bad, but I’ve been stretched far too thin and I’m done.” A flood of tears gushed down my ashen pale cheeks staining my pillow as I read the text that would haunt my emotions for the remainder of time. One fight. One text. Zero reason for why.
Do you comprehend how much you hurt me? Your name is written on every piece of my heart that you broke. Six months of dating — tied up and thrown into a dumpster. Strictly because of one clash of both of our stress and pent up emotions. What do I have now? Fear of loving again, avoidance, and self-preservation through total denial.
Am I mad at you? That’s your main concern after shattering my whole world? Mad for what? Breaking my heart? For all the superficial I love you’s? Maybe for letting me put all my trust in you only to be betrayed? How about the fact you didn’t even have the decency to tell me to my face? Or the way you think it’s crazy that I’m crying over it cause to you breaking up is no big deal. Am I mad at you? No. More like crushed. Did I ever really know you to begin with?
So, I’m going to go on with my life. And you’re going to go on with yours. Seeing you in the hallways will be nothing short of me trying to avoid looking at you so I don’t have to cry in front of the whole 2000 person population of our high school. They say holding on makes you stronger. But sometimes it’s letting go.