Let’s face it, you lost your grip because you thought I was easy and things would flow smoothly with me. You had this assurance of stress-free life with me, all the fun and joy of being together, having no care in the world. But when things started to get out of hand and it’s all blurry and shady, you had your escape route—it hit you, I am not the kind you’re thinking of. I am different, way too different.
You thought that I was the exception and made you more excited to dive in without knowing how deep I could be. Then you swam headfirst until you saw everything about me and the only thing you could think of was how to get away from this madness you put yourself into.
I wanted to put all the blame on you and call you “scared” for leaving, but I realized that I don’t have to. You’ve made me stronger when you walked away. It’s like I finally saw the truth, the reality of my self-worth and self-value.
It’s not that I am not enough, it’s that I am too much for you.
The moment you told me that you couldn’t bare the sensitivity of my emotions, you also told me indirectly, that you’re not the person who can truly understand what I feel inside. When situations were not as fun as you pictured them, you showed me that you could not bear the worst of times with me.
That instance that you didn’t appreciate the efforts I made for you brought me to the bottom line of this story—I am not the one for you.
Because these things wouldn’t happen if we were meant to be. I wouldn’t feel dragged down, or as if I am nothing.
You showed me the person I am about to give my world to, and I thank you for warning me in advance that I am wrong for that move.
I don’t need someone who will invalidate my feelings and emotions just because they can’t understand them or think I’m overreacting. I don’t need the kind of person who will only entertain my presence when conditions feel right for them. I don’t have time for someone who can’t recognize what I’m willing to do. I don’t want to stress myself into thinking that this person could somehow change, when in reality they won’t, not even a little.
This has been me, the genuine me. The person who will always be too much. And I am not even sorry.
I’d rather be known as someone who’s hard to love than easy to leave. That’s why when you left, no tears fell and no regrets were had, only lessons that were meaningful to learn from you.
You taught me how to give importance to myself and how not to let myself down. You made me see that I am special and I am ought to be treated better. You gave me reasons to let you go and wait for what I deserve. And of course, you made me realize that no matter what happens I am always worthy of love that I’ve been giving to everyone else.
I had a lot to offer and you missed your chance; I think I should be more grateful that it happened because if not, I guess I’d be suffering on my own decisions—wishfully thinking and giving you the benefit of the doubt.
You brought me to this conclusion that it’s okay to be labeled as “too much,” it’s alright not to fit into the liking or standards of everybody, and it’s definitely fine to be different from the rest. Somehow that’s a relief for me, knowing that I stand out and that someday I will be accepted, needed and loved the way I should, the way I deserve, and the way I now expect.