I was the only one who put effort into our (almost) relationship.
I would text you first, wait for a response that never came, and then text you again a week later.
I would make plans with you, hear your sketchy excuse about why you suddenly had to cancel, and then make plans with you again the next time you were free.
I would watch you disappear from my world, wonder where you went, and hate you for leaving — but as soon as you came back, I would go right back to flirting with you.
I never punished you for treating me poorly. I never bitched about how long it took you to answer texts. I never called you out when I caught you in another lie. I never complained about the way you acted, even though we both knew you were taking advantage of my kindness.
I gave you so many chances. I tried so hard to make you like me.
All of that unreciprocated effort probably made me look too clingy. Overly attached. Desperate.
But from my side of the situation, it was proof that I cared. That I wasn’t going to give up on you. I wasn’t going to let you push me away like you pushed everyone else away.
I thought you were hesitant to enter a relationship with me because you were scared. Because you had baggage your parents and your exes brought you. Because you weren’t sure if you were ready to put your heart on the line again. I thought we had that much in common.
That is why I kept calling you and texting you and liking your pictures, even when I didn’t get a response the last time. I thought that after a while you would soften up to me. You would change your mind about not being ready for a relationship and turn me into your person.
It turns out that I was wrong. You never wanted to date me. You liked me, but not enough to commit to me. Not enough to enter a serious relationship with me.
You only wanted me around when you were bored. When you were lonely. When you had nothing better to do. I was a backup plan. A second choice. The person you would text when the rest of your options were busy.
That’s fine, but I just want you to know that nothing about liking you was easy. It wasn’t easy to put my pride aside and text you first for the tenth time in a row. It wasn’t easy for me to act like everything was perfectly fine between us, even though you just spent a full month ignoring me. It wasn’t easy for me to keep putting my faith in you after you kept disappointing me.
It wasn’t easy to chase after you for so long, but I kept putting in effort week after week, because I liked you that much. Because, at the time, I thought you were worth it.