I thought love was a solution to life, to all the ups and downs, family drama, sadness, and loneliness. To my surprise, I was in love and the most alone I had ever felt.
Loving you was issue after issue. The idea of us is what kept me from realizing that you were making this already difficult life even more impossible to bear. I thought you would one day wake up and resolve everything, but instead, every morning I was greeted with more heartbreak and disappointment. I didn’t know that love wasn’t supposed to hurt that much.
I ignored every warning sign, every friend who said you were wrong for me, all because I believed in you more than I believed in my own self-confidence, more than my ability to find someone else who loved me the way I deserved to be loved.
I blamed myself for falling for you long after you were already gone. I blamed myself for being that naive girl in the movie who falls for a man who has no plan on loving her in return. I didn’t want to be her so bad, and yet I loved you even when I knew you had no intention of loving me like I needed you to—like I wanted you to.
The flowers, the generic dates to places I’m sure you took all your girlfriends to, the laughs, everything was a facade, a tactic to keep me in your bed, and I blindly thought that this was love.
The best thing you ever did for me was walk out of the door even though it hurt like hell watching you leave. I cried for the months that followed, but I realized that the feeling of loneliness stayed the same. It didn’t worsen with your absence, only lingered enough for me to feel loneliness in a room.
Even though your memory is engraved in my brain, I’ve moved on, and you were a lesson I needed to learn. The brokenness you made me feel has helped me appreciate life. It’s helped me to be content with loneliness and not always see it as something negative.