To The Womanizer Who Screwed Me Over
It’s amazing how you made me love you every day for months, then one day just told me to stop caring.
You said you love me, but told me not to love you.
Believe me, I tried so hard not to. I have no clue when it started. Was it when you first made me the coffee I didn’t ask for? I ended up throwing it away for it was too strong for my taste. Was it when I first heard your voice over the phone and every word that came out of your mouth sent me giggling like a high school girl? Was it when I saw the warmth in your smile that radiates with your eyes? Or was it when you grabbed my hand like they do in movies and sent my heart beating fast? Was it when you first looked me straight me in the eye and told me that any man would be lucky to have me? You had that strange gaze that could make anyone believe what you say.
Every conversation with you was a heavenly moment. Heck, I’m a 24-year old working girl, but you sent me back to the adolescent emotional whirlpool I used to be in, years and years ago. I’ve had my fair share of flings and serious relationships. I have loved all of them but I didn’t stay. They lacked something I was looking for – and I found that something in you. You were all of the relationships I had, combined. But this time, I wasn’t the one who got away. You screwed me up really bad.
I’m a fool. I have been warned. Better yet, you have warned me. But I chose to ignore what I thought and went along with what I felt.
You have told me flat out that you were a womanizer. “Were” was the keyword I focused on. I wanted to believe that if you got to know me, you wouldn’t add me to the list of the hearts you’ve played. I have done it before and I was confident that I could do it again. Two could play a game, and I thought I was pretty good at it myself. But boy, never had I been so wrong in my life. I lost the moment you woke me up with that phone call and said those three words that made me gasp for air. You told me you love me for the first time. I don’t know how you did it, but you made it sound so believable…so sweet that you got my heart right there and then.
When we had our first kiss that we had anticipated for months, a thousand sensations exploded in me. I had doubts, but the way you brushed your lips to mine made it all fade away. We exchanged “I love you’s” and “I love you too’s”. We soon shared one rhythm – shared one love. You knew I was yours when I bared to you my soul that night.
When we woke up, my world crashed with what you did next. “I love you,” I said. You answered with a sly grin, “I know.” You had my heart in your hands and you shattered it to pieces. When you had entered my walls, you completely shut me out in yours. I didn’t expect that the goodbye’s we had when you sent me home would be the last I’d hear of you.
It’s stupendous how I was a part of your daily routine but then you just cut me out of your life in a snap. I was in a constant denial that I’ve been played. I didn’t want to think of you badly. I was holding on to the thought that you were the decent man I believed you to be – that the love I felt was a love we shared. But your silence made me have all kinds of thoughts. Maybe my idea of making love was merely screwing up for you. Or maybe you too didn’t find in me that “something” you were looking for, like how I was to my past relationships.
You didn’t bother to explain. You didn’t even feel that I deserved to know what went wrong. You brought me to heaven, but sent me down to hell.
Throughout my lifetime, I have experienced all kinds of pain: heartbreak, grief, death, loss (you name it, I’ve been through it). But not even the death of both my parents can compare to the pain you gave me. For the first time in my life, I really, really wanted to die. It’s a surprise that I could still function at work when every single part of my body that you touched is slowly dying inside.
Every morning was a struggle to get out of bed and be the happy person I was before I met you. It’s painstakingly difficult to maintain the strong front I have shown people through the years. Congratulations for penetrating my walls and blowing it up in one night.
Honestly, I don’t hate you. I have already forgiven you even before you say sorry. I was mad and angry but it’s a tiring emotion. Hating you wouldn’t make a difference anyway. But don’t get me wrong, you still owe me a proper apology.
Instead, I want to thank you. Thank you for pulling me out of my romantic fantasy that the social media has instilled upon my brain. That love isn’t all sparks and flowers and butterflies. Thank you for making me realize that people like you actually exist. I’ve heard of your kind, but I had this blind faith in believing the best out of people and I give away my trust so easily. I thought when I give genuine love, I get it genuinely back. Thank you for making me realize I am not always right. And most importantly, thank you for reminding me that when I love a person, I must not forget to take care of myself too. It’s just a shame that I had to be reminded of this the hard way.
Thank you, for when you told me to stop loving you, I realized what I have forgotten to do for the past years. You made me contemplate on all my past mistakes and made me start loving myself again.
I loved you. I’m focusing now to keep it in the past tense. It’s just a matter of time before I completely get out of the depression I have willingly walked into. Little by little I’m putting back the shattered pieces of myself together. Thank you for the lesson. Now, I have to love myself too.