I Hate What You Did To Me

I hate what you did to me.

I can pretend all I want that I’m fine, that nothing has changed, that you were one of the many. But I can’t lie to myself.

I hate what you did to me.

You were the first guy I actually liked since three damn years – you ticked 90% of the boxes, being pretty much whom I’ve been waiting to meet.

You weren’t physically my type, but I was drawn to you by your personality, passion for your job, and values. You taught me I’m not shallow.

You were the one who texted, or invited me out. I was going through some shit and was pretty distracted.

I made the first move, because I’m that kind of independent 20-something girl who takes what she wants.

You got me.

I got involved. You didn’t. Getting to see you seemed like a mission impossible.

You dumped me. I cried.

Now.

I can’t like anyone.

I don’t want anyone.

I feel I’m not enough.

Not enough smart, not enough beautiful, not enough thin, not enough interesting, not enough nice, not enough fun, not enough skilled. Just… not enough.

I hate what you did to me – you couldn’t love me, I can’t love myself.

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