I will hate you.
Yes, I will.
With all my heart and soul. With all the energy I have left in my body after crying my lungs out, every single night since you left me. I will hate all parts of you and all things you, even the ones that I used to love. I will hate your smile, your laugh, and when you untie your hair, letting it flow down your head like a gushing waterfall, the look that I once so, so loved.
I will delete your number. I will force my brain to purge itself of any memories or longing for you. I will force my heart to compact all feelings that I have left for you into a box. A box which I will lock. I will lock it tight. And it will be buried within the deepest depths of my heart, never, ever to be opened again.
And then I will somehow be able to remember your number (surprisingly), and then I will check your WhatsApp status to see if you’ve been missing me. I will look at your profile picture and analyze your smile, if deep within your eyes there is sadness, or longing, or regret.
Why isn’t she missing me?
Why isn’t she regretting it?
Is she well? Or is she as miserable as I am?
Nah, you’re long gone in her head. She’s moved on. You no longer matter.
Of course. Why do I even still care?
And I will make sure that I’m happier in front of you. I will laugh louder, smile bigger and walk taller. Just in front of you. Just to spite you. Just to make you regret all the pain that you’ve caused me. To secretly make you hope that you could return to me again. I will tell myself not to be sad or vulnerable in front of you, that I will be stronger than ever before and happier than ever, whenever I see you.
Before I go back again to the cycle of insomnia, crying myself to sleep, and lying in bed for the entire day, I will remind myself about the times where you wronged me. When you looked at me and labelled me superficially as someone who is “childish”. I will remind myself how my heart seemed to compress itself into the size of a golf ball, and that acute, sharp pain that came along and radiated across my body from the heart. I will remind myself about that shortness of breath and that tightness in my chest and how my nose felt like it was being flushed with gallons of acid every single time you say those words to me. Every. Single. Time.
I will tell myself how NOT to be loved. To never ever be with someone who always demands changing my personality. To never settle with someone who only see all of my flaws and none of my strengths. To distance myself from those who fall in love with the idea of me, instead of me, the living me that exists right in front of their very eyes. Not the me that is created with her own imagination, the me that she expects me to be.
I will tell myself that as much as I might love someone, it’s not worth it if I’m the only one putting in the effort, even trying to change myself just to make the relationship work. I will remind myself that with true love, all I need to do is to be true to myself and her, and all the rest is all insignificant.
I will teach myself how to be loved. That I will find someone who will accept me as who I am. Who will love me despite my flaws. Who will give me all her trust because she believes in me. I will find someone who is real. Someone who acknowledges that there might be certain problems and issues that may crop up, and puts in effort to resolve these problems, instead of pretending that there are no problems at all and refusing to communicate, leaving these problems and misunderstandings to accumulate and snowball until one day the both of us snap.
I will find the one. The one to be my forever and ever after, the one that reciprocates the passion, trust, intimacy, openness and communication that we all so desire in a relationship.
And I will miss you. A hell of a lot.
I will set aside 3 hours every night to disobey my brain and heart, to remember you vividly in detail. To remember all those parts of you that I once loved. To remember your scent that I once so adored every single time I held you in my arms. To remember the warmth I felt radiating from your palms every single time I held your hands. To remember how the concrete walls I’ve built within my heart used to disintegrate into mere dust, just by seeing you smile.
And then I will be mad. Mad at you for leaving and giving up on us. My blood will boil and my heart would be filled with rage as I listen to Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep” on repeat for at least a good 10 times. I will think about the ways I can get back at you, to make your life (at least) as miserable as mine is for the next 6 months to come.
And then I will burst into tears again. Sobbing. Crying. Wailing. Howling. Whatever kills the pain, even if it’s just a little bit.
And then I will move on. I will let go of you, and acknowledge that you are just a part of my past and a single page within a chapter of the novel of my life. I will tell myself that it is time to let go of all the hate and grudges that we’ve accumulated from all the misunderstandings and the eventual failure of our relationship.
I will remind myself that the only way for true happiness is to let go of all the negatives in the past, all those events that we can no longer change and all those regrets that we can no longer have a second chance for. I will tell myself that all things happen for a reason and, perhaps, our failure was the best lesson for the both of us to grow and mature. To love better, both others and ourselves. And to be someone else’s “one”.
And finally, I will forget you.
I will let my memories of you drift away as I accept the fact that perhaps we really aren’t meant to be. I will let them drift away along with the people that don’t matter anymore. The once painful but now insignificant memories. And with the past pain that planted the seeds of my future happiness. You will be forgotten, but not entirely, for you will be dimly remembered as the person who made a change to my life, who continued to allow me to mature and grow even though we are now separated, and you will be remembered as the one who once loved me and whom I once loved, with all my heart.
And when this faint memory of you fades away eventually, eroded by time, I would be able to confidently say that I’ve (finally) stopped loving you. After a hell of a long time, that is.