To The Boy Who Taught Me I’m Dispensable

If I decide to write about you and I actually do, it is because of the following reasons:

1. I am extremely mad at you and this is revenge!

Power does not solely lie in the barrel of the gun, but in the wrath of a woman.

2. You must have made quite an impression…

and I can’t get you out of my mind. To write about you is to free up storage space so I’ll have more memory space for useful information, whatever that may be.

3. I can’t find a better (at present) candidate to write about.

Whether or not you agree on the above, the damage is done. People will read about you, and you might want to thank me if you ever chance upon this.

It is funny how each time I struggle to let something or someone go, I’m always reminded of what you said—or rather, unwittingly taught—me.

And this was how it happened.

The gist of it was, when I told you “no” to your many attempts at progressing things romantically, you jokingly said that your heart was broken and there were not many pieces left.

And I told you, “You will be fine. Just pick up the pieces and move on.” Point delivered.

But no, somebody just had to have the last witty comeback.

You said, “Not move on—MOVE OVER.”

And it struck me there and then, that you were right. No one is indispensable.

Letting go of something hopeless does not signify that all hope is lost, although it sure feels like it. Better things will come once you let go of the things that hindered you from progress only if you choose to believe that things will get better.

Henceforth, I’ve learned and will apply the concept of “MOVE OVER” from the grandmaster—AKA you.

It simply signifies the ability to see light and find humor in a situation under trying and unfavorable circumstances, which is admirable—especially when it is very easy to lapse into a depressive state when things go south.

For what it was worth, it was regrettable that the story did not end with “and they lived happily ever after”; however, I’ll gladly piece back what’s left of your broken heart just so I can have the opportunity to break it again. (I’m just kidding!)

Just because it doesn’t end like a fairy tale doesn’t mean it has to end in tragedy or pain…right?