We haven’t spoken in two weeks and I think I’m finally starting to be okay without you. The truth is, you were never really there. For the past thirteen months, I’ve been prioritizing someone who never put forth the same effort. Never once did I wake up to missed calls or sweet texts from you, all my friends would brag about the adorable things their boyfriends did for them and never once was I able to brag. Never once did you make me feel loved when you told me you loved me. Never once did you show me you cared; telling me wasn’t enough, but you didn’t care about that either. You thought you could just have me whenever you wanted, and god, you were right. I was there for you when you had nowhere to go. I was there for you when no one else was. I was there for you to make you feel loved, to make you feel anything, when you couldn’t. I was there for you, always, whenever you needed me, I dropped everything for you. But when were you there for me? Sure, you were there when I hit rock bottom, when I thought that my world was ending. You told me you loved me and you wanted to make me happy, but I never told you that you were the reason I wasn’t. You were the reason I couldn’t eat. You were the reason I went days without sleep. You were the reason I got as bad as I did. You thought you could fix me, but you were the reason I was broken in the first place. I was a fucking object to you, and I accepted it. I built you up in my mind, I made you the center of everything and that blocked my view of the reality of who you are. And who you are is an asshole.
posted on September 11,9,778 notes