To The Man Who Treated Me Like Garbage

I’m not writing to you so that I can forgive you. I’m not going to tell you it was okay how you treated me or that it was both of our faults. Because it wasn’t. It was yours. It was you.

I had to be the bigger person more times that I can count. Keeping up with your tantrums when your ego was wounded was debilitating. I brought myself down to your level because I thought I was doing the right thing for you. I shared the blame for things that had nothing to do with me. I listened to everything while you’d fallen deaf to my words. You were blind to my nurturing. You were paralyzed when I needed you most.

I’m writing because I want you to know that I’m not okay and a big part of that is because of you. A part of that is stopping myself from remembering all of the good things about you, about us.

I’m not going to remember the walks we took with your dog around the block.

I’m not going to remember that ridiculous wig you put on that almost made me pee my pants laughing.

I’m not going to remember you mumbling your on language into the phone.

I’m not going to remember how silly you looked trying to type a text message on the phone.

I’m not going to remember that time you introduced me to your mom and told her I was important.

I’m not going to remember the time you opened up to me about your family and I felt like we could tell each other everything.

I’m not going to remember that night we danced like we were never going to dance again.

I’m not going to remember the excitement I felt when I heard your voice.

I’m not going to remember the comfort of your arms.

I’m not going to remember our first kiss.

I’m not going to remember the safety I felt when our hands intertwined.

I am going to remember when you forgot my birthday.

I am going to remember when I found out about that other girl.

I am going to remember how gross your friends were.

I am going to remember when you’d lose your temper.

I am going to remember when you’d manipulate me in the most obvious way.

I am going to remember how you’d scream and yell.

I am going to remember how I felt every time I realized you were lying.

I am going to remember all of your colorful excuses.

I am going to remember when I was attacked with panic.

I am going to remember the mental exhaustion.

I am going to forget us, but I’ll remember you.