My whole life, I have always been happy for other people. Seeing someone I know succeed has always inspired me, motivated me even. But there is one person that, as much as I try, I just can’t seem to be happy for. You, my ex-boyfriend.
When you legit ghosted on me during the winter break of 2011, I waited around my phone like a fool. I was still convinced we had a relationship even though you had gone weeks without responding to my calls and texts.
You blamed it on wanting to spend more time with your family during the holidays without distractions. It made sense to me and I tried to not let it get to me.
New Years Eve came and went. We met up on my drive back up to college. You said, “I forgot how beautiful you were.” That made me feel like there was hope for us…for what we could become.
I went back to college positive and excited for my last semester. You called me that night to tell me you wanted a “break”. I asked you how long and you said “just this semester. I need to concentrate on my academics.” Fair.
A few weeks later, I found out there was someone else. A frequent “tweeter”, I went back through her tweets and read the story of YOU. I felt lied to and betrayed. Embarrassed. It was all there on fucken Twitter.
I spent weeks crying on the way to class, crying in the shower, crying at the gym, and crying myself to sleep. I felt like I wasn’t even good enough to hear the truth. I wasn’t worthy of being broken up with formally.
I always wanted to be a writer. I would spend hours reading YA novels on my free time, you told me once that “reading is stupid” and I felt like something was wrong with me for liking it. I started to blog. My first post was called “Day 1”. I started documenting the days it would take for me to get over you. People started reading. They left so many comments. I felt like there was people out there just like me and I had found myself again. I kept the blog going and it was something that became more of a passion than a “side hustle”.
Months passed and I was in a new relationship. Happy to be looking back at my past because everything led me to the man of my dreams.
I logged on to Twitter and saw your name pop up. You started a blog. You were dropping everything to follow your dreams…of writing a book.
You took a lot from me…
Weekends I could have been studying or spending time with my family.
Nights where I could have been creating memories or sleeping.
Time I spent trying to be the “perfect” person you wanted instead of being myself.
You took all that from me. And now, you took something that was MINE since the beginning. My outlet for getting over you. MY dream. And you made it your own. Now, people would only see my blog or my future book as something that was a product of my resentment for you instead of something that comes from me, my heart, and my passion.
You were featured on Thought Catalog.
And I wanted to be happy for you…
But, I just can’t. I won’t.