I stay up late at night in the hope that you might message me. Deep down I know that my phone will stay dry of your name. I know that you are probably asleep dreaming of anything but me, but there’s still that glimmer of hope that maybe one day you will.
I tell myself it is fine, that I will be happy on my own, and that I don’t need you. I’ll say this as I constantly check my Snapchat story to see if you’ve seen it. I’ll tell myself every lie under the sun about why you’ve not spoken to me. I know you are fading me out. I know you don’t want me as much as you used to. I have bored you, just like I do everyone else. You’ve found out I am too much effort for just a simple relationship. You found out that I’m insecure, that I won’t just “let things go”.
I wish I was that perfect girl. The one that you stop talking to all those others for. The one you make sure you would do anything for. But as I sit here writing this, I realize more and more that I am so far from it.
Sometimes I want to laugh at myself for believing the things you told me. How I told people how great you were, and now I’m embarrassed to have to say I was wrong. My naivety got the better of me yet again.
The warning signs were there. I had a girl message me telling me you’d been saying the exact same thing to her. That should have been a big fucking warning sign. Thing is, I’m a fool. A fool who just really wants to be loved, but trying to find it in the wrong people.
I guess that’s a common thing to do though. The “fuckboy” plague.
I feel as though I’ve been chasing my tail the whole time. I got carried away, thinking that it was something it wasn’t. Perhaps I read too much into things? Maybe “I want to see how things go” was really just a code for, “I don’t want to commit to you, I want to see other people, but you’re good to have around.”
Maybe I was just another girl.
When I talk about what went on between us, my friends say, “He’ll realize what he’s missing,” or, “He’ll come crawling back.” We both know this isn’t true. The truth is, you’ll never be missing anything because you will find someone else to fill any void you have. Another girl to occupy your time until you get bored. You will never come crawling, running or walking back. I will most likely never see you ever again. You’ll be a ghost of my past.
You are another lesson learned. You are another etch to the engraved mug on my forehead.
A girl like me is hard to contain. Not because I am wild or extravagant in my ways, but because I am not an “easy ride”. I don’t take half-hearted apologies or excuses. I will grind until I have the truth. It’s always been a talent of mine, to know when someone is lying. A talent that I sometimes wish I didn’t have. What a fucking curse.
I spend time wondering what I could have done to keep you around. I compare myself to girls I see you like pictures of on Instagram. Would you have stuck around if I was taller, blonde with a toned bum? They’re all the ones I see. I look at my long red hair which I used to love so much, try push up my boobs a little bit more, squat for days; but I soon realize I’m just not that girl and light up yet another cigarette.
Have you ever known that you were not the only girl without actually knowing? It is the most excruciating pain. You see them online and know that there is another girl also online he is messaging whilst you haven’t heard from him all day. You notice how he tells you all the right things but likes every other girl’s post but yours? He says that he just doesn’t really ‘do’ social media, but you know that’s just another excuse. You start to believe that you’re being petty. That these are just little things that don’t really matter. Why don’t they matter? They’ve mattered before? Those little things were the simple things that made you feel happy. Not because of some narcissistic personality trait, but to know that you have their support, even on the silly little things. That they are proud you are theirs. You’ve started to expect less. You are lowering the standard of what you know you deserve.
That’s not you. That is not what you deserve.
You are more than that man. You are more than this “fuckboy plague.”