Look, I’ve got plenty of options. I’ve gotten 2 confessions of love in the past month, and 4 others I know of liking me. You know, wanting to take me on dates and that sort of thing. They’ve told me I’m funny, I’m nice, I’m fascinating, I’m intelligent, I’m cool as hell, I’m awesome, and I’m beautiful. And I am. I forgot for awhile, who I am. I am all these things. The thing is, I don’t think you ever saw it. I don’t think you ever tried. You told me I’m abrasive; I’ve tried to soften up. You told me I’m indecisive; I chose you. You told me I’m awkward; isn’t that supposed to be endearing? You told me I’m not what you’re used to; perhaps that wasn’t such a good thing after all. I find it easy to communicate with anyone else but you. You always seem too busy, like you don’t have the time to talk to me. I know you’re thousands of miles away now, but just know this: I would rather have missed you than moved on. One sweet sentence and I would have been a goner. Something in the mail, and I would have waited for you. A phone call every once in a while, and I would have never looked around. I don’t think I’ll ever be this way for anyone else; you have hardened me. Taught me inadvertently that unsung lesson: no matter how hard one tries, the other will be unaffected. The things you said while you were back home were obviously empty words, and I should have known. I wouldn’t call this my first heartbreak, I would rather label it as the first time I was truly let down, my pride burned. This is as far as I’ll go, and although you’ll never read this, it doesn’t really matter. I doubt you’ll notice. I miss you, but you don’t miss me. And that’s alright; it’s a lesson we all have to learn, right?
Next time around, don’t tell a nice girl empty words. You obviously got what you wanted from me. Next time around, I won’t be nearly so stupid. Next time around, I will be never go another round for someone who doesn’t see me for what I am, which is fucking awesome.