I looked through your pictures just now.
I barely saw you.
Today my roommate told me that she might be the only person in the world with her name. So I told her I am going to name my child after her and I am going to dye his/her hair and have him/her have blue eyes and basically just make every feature of my child into her.
How do you trust someone’s feelings when they can just disappear like that?
Do you ever think, when you’re all alone, all that we could have been, where this thing could have gone?
I gotta let this out.
Remember when you said you wanted a kid? I had no questions that you’ll be a good father. You’ll be a great father, but you’ll be a terrible husband. I am not saying you’d do what you did to me to your future wife, but if what I have experienced is truly how you treat women, then they’ll be pretty damn unlucky.
I am not gloating when I say this. You won’t meet another girl like me for a long time. You might meet one that likes you a lot, but you won’t meet one that loves you as much as I did. I never really said I loved you, ‘cause I knew it would have overwhelmed you, and you would have run the other way.
I do know you more than you know yourself. You pushed me away this time because you couldn’t handle my handling the two-girl thing like you were my boyfriend. You weren’t my boyfriend, I knew that, but I really sincerely believed that somewhere deep in your heart you believed that you were. Because I had so much faith, against everyone else’s impression, that you felt for me as much and deep as I felt for you.
But I guess now I know that wasn’t the case.
No matter how much faith I had for you, it didn’t change anything. You were with me for the comfort. You needed someone to talk to, to talk about how you hated your dad when he was still with Beverly, how you hated school because it was uninspiring and unchallenging, and you were always waiting to graduate. You just needed someone comfortable to talk you. And I believed, I really did, that my purpose in the past three years in your life was to listen to you, be there for you when you were sad or frustrated, be with you.
I gave you every ounce of affection I had in me.
There were so much times I took the cab back to my house from yours, and as the taxi raced along the west side highway along the hudson river, I thought to myself: God, I love that boy. So many fucking times. I wanted so badly to say it, but I held my tongue, because I wasn’t sure if I would meet silence on your side. But now I know.
You didn’t love me, you never did. You were never in love with me. I know you cared but it wasn’t anything remarkable. You cried about the time when we got arrested together, but so what? That was just guilty tears.
i am surprised I am not crying as I type this.
I really loved you, I did. With everything I had and everything I could come up with. I wanted you to have everything. I worried about you about everything. About the pot, the cigarettes, the booze. But it’s time to stop. It was never my job to worry about you. You never worried about me, that’s for damn sure. Going home at three in the morning.. You didn’t even ask, maybe you did for once or twice, but how many times is that compared to the real amount of times I have stayed at your house late. I hate you, Sacha. I love you so much but I hate you.
I hate that you’ve always been so selfish that in the end you never really fought for us. You came back when you needed me, and I took you back because I thought to myself, maybe this time would be different. But you never changed. You would never ever fight for us.
I know you were sad. But you’ll get over it. It’s what you do. Until some shit happens and you don’t wanna deal with it so you push it to the back of your head and smoke and drink and punch someone and there’s going to be that one night you’re gonna miss me terribly because I have always been there for you to talk to you. I fucking guarantee that.
This time is not about us drifting apart, it’s not about being in two different places with different groups of people. It’s not about having nothing in common. We have gone through all these during Stuy, besides being in two different places. If you really wanted me to stay in your life, if you really wanted me to be your girl (that still sounds so fucking good), if you really wanted me, you could have made it work. It’s not about being apart, I don’t talk to most of my friends back home everyday, and the feelings have never changed. I don’t waver like you do. You have no idea what you want. And this is not about us drifting apart. If you didn’t want us to, we could have texted, skyped, whatever. I know I didn’t do anything of these things, but then again, I didn’t think we were drifting apart. I thought wow, this boy is still with me even though we don’t talk everyday anymore. I thought what we had between us was stronger.
But I was wrong, again. Just like how I was wrong with having faith in you. I hope you’ll be happy. But please, unless you’re fucking sure you’d be good to me for the rest of my life, don’t ever speak to me again. I do not want to see your face, I don’t want anything to do with you. The amount of times and the extent of the hurt you have inflicted on me is fucking phenomenal. And I hope you know you’re a fucking scumbag for it. All I ever wanted for you is to be happy, I would have done anything, anything, to get you what you want. Every time something goes wrong I would wanna solve the issue myself if I could. That’s how much I loved you. But I can’t.
Nothing about you ever again.
It’s true. Reading does heal. Reading about others’ losses and heartbreaks makes me embrace, and even surpass, my own.
- Irene: I hope Sacha isn't with me because it's familiar.
- Thomas: Is he with you?
You know what? I am gonna come out of this okay. I am gonna beat it. If I have to do it without you, that’s your choice. But doing it without your pity, that’s MY choice.
I admit: I had been crazy, been self-centered, dramatic.
Had written you notes and letters, bought you breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Had thought of ways to make sex hotter, steamier, better.
Had spent nights crying, restraining myself from calling you.
I had been yours. My heart had been yours.
No matter how many times we had been disappointed, had broken up.
I admit: you had been sweet, been tolerating, surprising.
Had written me a letter, bought me breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Had thought of ways to make sex hotter, steamier, better.
Had spent nights designing a ring, restraining yourself from telling me.
You had been mine. And perhaps your heart had been mine, too.
I saw you for what you could become, not for what you were.
Days like these make me miss home.
Days like these make me wanna bury my face in someone’s chest.
lol. Days just get worse and worse.
Can my (ex)boyfriend not make any girl friends or have any girlfriends because that’s just wrong and it makes me sad. ):
I didn’t know missing someone could be so hard.