I don’t like you.
The way you met me and made me believe I was everything you wanted. The way you found me endlessly interesting. The way you wanted to hear about my past and opened up about yours. The way you thought I was beautiful. The way you’d compliment me at any opportunity. The way you couldn’t wait to see me. The way you changed your mind over night for no reason, with no warning.
I don’t like you.
The light grey star bursts in your icy blue eyes surrounding the pupil. Your perfectly shaped nose. Your lips and your crooked smile because for some reason half of your bottom lip wont form a smile. I don’t like your laugh, the way it echoes, the way your voice becomes deeper when you laugh, the way your laughter makes me feel alive. I don’t like your hands the way they feel around my hips, my thighs, my throat. Your fingers the way they taste on my tongue. Your arms and how safe I feel wrapped in them. I don’t like your body and how much I crave it, your touch, your smell, your taste, to feel you inside me.
I don’t like you.
I don’t like how easy it feels to talk to you when you are with me. The way you look at me, the way it feels like it means something, yet I know it means nothing more than the fact that I’m something to do when there’s nothing to do. I don’t like the way you admit that there is something there. The way you make me feel like I’m not good enough. The way you dismiss the fact that I too, am a human being with the capability of being hurt. I don’t like the way you think I’m crazy for expressing the pain you caused me. The way that you belittle the emotions I felt for you simply because you did not feel them for me. The way you dumped me twice in the same way, in the same time frame, over the same text. The way you wouldn’t even talk about it with me. The way you said the connection wasn’t real. The way you said the connection was real. The way I gave you two chances despite being unsure and knowing you deserved none. The way you didn’t give me any chances. The way you refuse to even be my friend. The way you don’t know what it means to be a good man.
I don’t like reality.
You are just another selfish boy in his mid-20s trying to play a role you don’t understand. You don’t care who you harm on your way as long as you protect yourself. You think you are better than others. You think you are deep and understanding but could not understand my past or my pain. You judged me when I opened up to you instead of offering the comfort you promised you could give. You think that you telling anyone they are interesting is the highest of all compliments when you in fact are quite boring. The way I know I wasn’t the first woman you pulled this pattern with, nor was I the last.
I don’t like myself.
I don’t like the way I can’t let you go. I don’t like myself for letting you in knowing you weren’t someone worth letting in. I don’t like the way I wanted to believe in you. I don’t like the way I opened myself up to you. I don’t like the way that months later I am still mad at you and yet I pretend I am not.
I don’t like you and now as fate would have it, I’m dating someone who works for the company you want to join. Someone who has a say in whether you get accepted or not. Someone who knows what it means to be a man and treat a woman and all those around him with dignity and respect. Maybe next time you’ll wish you had been a better man.
The way I don’t have a vindictive bone in my body and wouldn’t ever meddle with any opportunity that comes your way. The way you make me wish I did.