It’s your fault that I leave texts unanswered. That I cancel plans I’m excited about out of fear of getting disappointed. That I push people I have the potential to love away, because you were the last person I loved, and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to love again.
It’s your fault that I use sarcasm as a weapon. That I keep my personal thoughts lodged inside, because I don’t think anyone has a right to access them. I keep men at an arm’s length, so that they don’t have the capacity to hurt me. If I keep myself closed off, then getting my heart broken again will be an impossibility. At least that’s what I tell myself.
It’s your fault that my guard is up. That I think every man who looks at me wants to hurt me. I have no reason to enter a relationship, even if it meant I’d be ignorantly happy for a few months, because I know how it would end. It all leads up to pain. It all leads up to heartache. Every time. No exceptions.
It’s your fault that I believe I’m better off single. That I believe eating microwavable meals off of paper plates beats sitting in a diner with someone I love. That falling asleep next to an empty wine bottle beats falling asleep in a man’s warm embrace.
It’s your fault that I don’t think I’m girlfriend material. That I genuinly believe I don’t have what it takes to make a relationship work. Even if I stumbled across the right man, I doubt I could make him happy, because I couldn’t make you happy, even though I tried so hard. Even though I gave you everything.
It’s your fault I’m so paranoid when it comes to attention and affection. I can’t accept a compliment or an invitation out to dinner without wondering what the man’s true intentions are. My mind skips past the idea of him genuinly liking me and assumes that he’s only looking for sex. Assumes he’s looking to use me, like you did.
It’s your fault that I lie. I act like I couldn’t care less about the men that I think about every single night. I tell them to leave me alone when I really want them to try to break down my walls. I act like I’m emotionless, because it’s the only way for me to avoid pain.
It’s your fault that I’m terrified of commitment. That, as much as I’d love to drape my face with a veil and utter my vows, I shy away from relationships. Whenever I find someone new, I convince myself that I’m better off without them, because I’m worried that I’ll get cheated on or left behind. I’m worried that they’ll do the same shitty things to me that you already did.
But really, it’s my fault I shut everyone out, because it’s my fault I trusted you. That I believed the honey sweet lies that dripped from your lips. That I thought you were someone worthy of my time and my love. I don’t need you, and I clearly never did, which is why I’m finally done blaming you. Done thinking about you.
Done with you.