I don’t think you realize how many chances I have given you. I don’t think you understand how generous I have been.

Every time you took your sweet time answering my messages, leaving me waiting for days on end, I gave you another chance. Instead of deleting your number from my phone, I answered you back when you finally responded. I didn’t even get revenge by taking forever to text you back, by giving you a taste of your own medicine. I answered you as soon as I had the chance, because I actually wanted to talk to you. I wanted our relationship to develop.

Every time you made up a bullshit excuse about why you were acting so distant, I gave you another chance by acting like I believed you. I thought that you were keeping your guard up to protect yourself. I thought that you would eventually grow comfortable with me, trust me, and tell me the truth. I thought that, by showing you I would stick around, you would learn to open up to me.

Every time you canceled plans with me at the last second, after I had already shaved my legs and picked out the perfect outfit for impressing you, I gave you another chance. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I tried to make plans with you again, hoping that you would actually follow through the next time. Hoping that you would be as excited to see me as I was to see you.

Every time you disappeared for days and then popped back up in my life again, I gave you another chance. I never questioned why you went missing in action. I never flipped out on you about leaving without a word. I was just thankful that you were back in my life. I let you get away with murder, because I didn’t want to chase you away again.

Every time I caught you flirting with another girl, even though you already made it clear you had interest in dating me, I gave you another chance. I ignored the pictures you posted with your arm around her. I told myself that she meant nothing to you and your friendship was harmless. I let you hurt me with hopes that you would date me in the end.

Every time you disappointed me, I gave you another chance. Every time you made me cry, I gave you another chance. I have lost count of how many times I have given you just one more chance.

I could have told you to go fuck yourself the first time you treated me like a second choice. I could have given up on us early on. But I never did — because I liked you that much. Enough to let my standards drop lower than they ever should have.

I gave you a million chances and you screwed up every single one, so I’m not going to feel bad about walking away. I’m not the one who ruined our chances of being together. You are.