It certainly has been a while. About a month now…well, 3 weeks, 5 days and some random amount of hours. The time frame is the same. It’s nighttime. Like when we hooked up, Like when we first said I love you, Like when you confessed to me, and even like when we broke up. You know what night time and you have in common? No, not that it’s gets cold and dark just like your heart, that’s too cliche, that’s too boring. I’m talking about how nighttime holds some sort of a dark secret to it. How nighttime and you hold a sort of, metaphysical bond that makes you both thing that you’re mysterious, alluring, and an enigma to the modern person. When we first met, I remember you saying that you were going to be a mistake. Boy, you were right there. For something that looked so tantalizing and sweet, like a freshly made cupcake sitting at the edge of your desk on your birthday with a little flag, you certainly were toxic for that. For something that looked innocent, something that looked kind and soft, you were rat poison, or a razorblade in an apple. Hidden oh so slightly from the untrained eye like mine at the time, but now that I See it, you were there all along, waiting to strike and knock me down. I remember when it went downhill with us. You got drunk, a dumb horrible thing to do at this age. I told you to not, but you insisted it would help. I told you to calm down with it, but you insisted you could take it. I Remember you crying to me that night. telling me all of your “Secrets”. How you knew the real struggle, the struggle of going hungry, or how you had cancer, or how you saw your sister die, or how your father got shot in front of you while you were being raped. All these miraculous stories in your mind, coming to life in front of me, as if to say “I need you to feel bad for me so our relationship can be better”. To hear that from you then, only to hear you say “Nah, that was just drunk me” hurts worse than a knife in the leg. As someone who has gone hungry for up to a week, as someone who has been raped, as someone who has actually been through a struggle, you don’t know anything. You and your soft pillowy life, your nice car, your money and your nice house full of everything you want. You don’t know anything like an actual struggle.
It’s amazing to see how the feelings of love and compassion can go from feelings of hate and rage. To waste my time with someone as petty and insignificant as you is something that a child would have done. I refuse to be a child, so I’ll never make this mistake again.
Goodbye forever, I hope people understand how bad you are.