After months of our relationship, that’s all it boiled down to.
Eight words, in a text. You didn’t even put in any sort of punctuation.
Through talking about what wasn’t working, you never once acknowledged that you did anything wrong. My wasted emotions, the tears I cried hoping you’d realize how hurt I was and maybe care just a little now mock me. I think back and cringe at the words I crafted as carefully as I could in order to accurately express just how strongly I felt about you. I was so worried about getting my point across so you would never doubt just how much you meant to me.
Your eight words, although lacking punctuation, certainly got your point across. Although I had been able to ignore every way you mistreated me and took me for granted, this I cannot ignore.
That eight word text telling me that we’re done made clear to me what I hadn’t been able to realize for months. I meant basically nothing to you. I was second best, simply an option until something better came along. You aren’t a nice guy. You took me wildly for granted, as if I would pathetically wait around by your side forever. You aren’t good enough for me.
I deserve more than you and I’ll get it.
Nine words. Seems I still care a little more than you ever did.