I’m Giving Up The Fight For You (Because I Know Better)
I miss the old you, the one I met when I was young and naive about the world around me. He’s gone now, physically the same but with a different soul, and yet I still miss him. I never knew how hard it was to quit someone until I actually had to try. Id imagine it’s similar to a drug withdrawal or a very bad hangover. You know the side effects, you’ve read the warning labels, and you’ve felt the relapse every time you decide to take another hit, but the original high keeps you coming back. This is the time he’d change, the time he’d be the man he promised you he’d be when you were weak enough to believe him.
I was numb to the world around me, nothing else matter when I thought you were an option. I wanted to believe that you wanted me as badly as I wanted you and that one day this would all be worth it. I wanted to justify every relapse with the hope that if I gave it enough time you would realize I was what you had been out there searching for. I know better now. I stopped trying for you thinking maybe that would make you start, how foolish was I to think you cared enough. I was a convenience, a beautiful distraction from your life that was only necessary when you were feeling in need of something to get lost in for a few hours.
I was so blinded by the idea of you that I let myself play that role in your life thinking it was something that I wanted, because I so desperately wanted to be something you wanted. I made excuses for you and hid behind our friendship so that everyone including you would think I was happy with the way things were. For a while I was. I’ll never know if it was because I was truly fine or if I had convinced myself of a lie to the point where I thought it was reality. Maybe it was a little bit of both.
I quit you for a while without you even bothering to notice. When talking every day turned into silence without so much as a concerned response I knew it was time to walk away. What am I holding onto anyway? I was never yours, I was never even a thought. You disguised me as a friend so it looked like I had a place in your life, if only you could see what that place looked like from my eyes. Maybe then you would see how much you have changed. I fought for the old you, the one that I met back when I wasn’t as shiny and beautiful. Is it possible I was kept to be a trophy on your wall, a fixer upper that finally paid out? Maybe that’s all I ever was, a dividend that cashed in overtime.
Sure I could stay and pretend this is what I want, that I’m happiest with you in my life even when you’re presence has become something that resembles a ghost of who you were. I could cling to the memories, god knows I’m strong enough to keep playing this role. But you don’t deserve my strength, you don’t deserve the fight I have left in me. What’s the point in fighting for something you never had? To have your soul beaten and bruised just to go on and play pretend to save yourself from the inevitable crash for a little while longer. I’m not going down with this ship. I refuse to stick around long enough just so you can watch me drown. I’m far better than you ever deserved and I’m finally done waiting for you to realize that.