I wish I could say that this doesn’t hurt. That I’m so over you, that I don’t really care whether you loved me or not. But the truth is, it hurts like hell. It hurts because I gave you months of my life, it hurts because I let you in when every cell in my body screamed not to.
It hurts because I loved you, but you never loved me back. They say lies hurt more than the truth, and you proved that to me.
All those times when you would tell me I was the most amazing woman you had ever met, I wasn’t. I believed every word that would come out of your mouth, because I had no reason not to.
After all, why would you lie to me? I did nothing wrong to you, I never looked at another man when I was with you, I never needed to look at others because you were more than enough to me.
I wish I could say the same for you. I wish I had been enough for you. I wish I was that amazing woman you used to tell me I was. But now I know that to you, I never was.
I was just another number on your hit list. And honestly, I don’t want to know which one.
All those times you said you were working late, now I know you weren’t. You were working something, that’s for sure. But I don’t think it’s in your job description to screw other women.
I was so madly in love with you that I never saw the truth. And it was there, right before my eyes. It was screaming at me from all the roses around my apartment, from all the little gifts you would get me.
And I was just too blinded by love and deafened with your sweet words.
All those times you would say, “I love you.” How could you? How could you look me in the eyes and lie to me? How could you look at me glowing after those words and still feel no remorse?
How could you do it, because you knew that I would remember every single time you said it and it would pierce through my heart every single time I did? The first time you said it was when I was sick.
You brought me soup, put on Suits and cuddled with me, even though you knew you could get sick too. But you didn’t care, because you loved me.
Or maybe it was because you had left me waiting in the rain the week before, because you had to go back to work to pick up some papers. I wonder whether those papers were named Alice or Jackie?
The second time was over dinner. You looked at me, the way only you knew how, the way that would melt my body and fuel up the fires in my heart. You looked at me and said that I was the best thing that had happened to you in a long time.
And that you loved me. I guess I was that best thing, in a certain way. I was there for you, whenever you needed my touch, my comfort and my understanding.
I was there, eagerly trying to make you happy, because you made me happy. And I was blind enough not to see the real you.
You never really loved me. You loved the things I would do for you, you loved that I was so deeply in love with you that you could do whatever you wanted with me.
You loved the way I would try to put a smile on your face and how happy I was when I succeeded. You loved the way I loved you, but not me.
I wish I could say that I no longer care. I wish I could be strong enough to say, “Thank you for being the toughest lesson I learned.” But the truth is, I’m not. I love myself, that’s for sure. I love myself in a way you never could.
And I appreciate myself more. Because now I refuse to settle for someone who can’t make the effort to make time for me. I refuse to settle for someone’s half-assed love. Because I deserve more.
I’m too amazing, too smart and too valuable to be half-loved. And you know what? The pain will go away, the regrets will vanish over time. But my worth never will.
I will always be the one who will let her guard down first. I will always be the one who will come running to help, whenever I’m needed. And you will always be that guy who was a lesson and never a forever after.