For months, I grieved.
Right up until the end, I was under the impression that our two-year relationship was going great. You made me believe that.
So what did I do to you to make you treat me like this?
Out of the blue, you stonewalled someone you’ve known for 12 years, someone you’d spent a month living with, someone you called your life partner, just so you wouldn’t have to talk about your feelings.
A few months into the breakup, right around the time when I was starting to accept that you’d never speak to me again, you reared your underwhelming head to tell me you wanted to talk.
Then you ghosted again.
How fucking dare you give me that hope.
How could you treat someone you claimed to love like this?
What else could I have possibly done?
What the FUCK did I do to you?
These were the questions I asked myself on a loop as my heart ripped itself to shreds inside of me over and over.
Every single moment of every single day, you chose to treat me like I didn’t exist. It was easier to make me hate you than to admit you hate yourself.
Well, guess what? You finally did it. I no longer care about how you feel. Just like you never gave a shit about how I felt.
Absolve your own guilt. Better yet, bury it next to the rest of your emotions.
I don’t need your closure.
Coward.
That’s what I’d say to him… if he ever bothered to actually apologize.
Yeah. That’d show him.