I should have left you behind in 2015.

We weren’t right for each other in the beginning of the year, so why did I think anything would change? Why did I stupidly believe you just a month ago when you said we were headed in the direction of getting back together?

Instead, I refused to let go, and I brought our problems, and you, into 2016.

I could tell you were done with me the last week of 2015, but I didn’t want to take the hint. I’m human. I deserve better. I shouldn’t have to figure it out from your lack of conversation or avoidance to hang out. You should have enough respect for me to tell me.

I didn’t want to pressure you into telling me you were done. Yet I did. Because I’m sick of letting others know where I stand and then sitting around for them to make up their damn minds. It had been a few days since we had last spoken. I messaged you to see if you wanted to talk and you said you were busy, so we decided on today. You said it would be short. Who says that? That’s essentially the same thing as telling me you’re done, but then painfully stopping by my house for five minutes to mumble a few words, shake my hand like it’s a business transaction, and leave. I hope you feel good about yourself.

I feel sick. I feel nauseous thinking about what happened. But most of all, I feel sad.  I want to cry. I want to scream. I can feel the tears in my eyes but they won’t come out because I don’t cry. I never can. But right now I just want more than anything to cry it out. I want to cry you out. I want to get you out of my system. I want to forget about you. I want to move on from you. I want to be over you. I want to be able to feel validated without your approval. I don’t want to worry about what your friends think of me because they’re not my friends. They’re your friends. And they don’t even know what’s best for you.

So congratulations, you disposed of me once again. Forget about where you touched me last weekend. Apparently that meant nothing. Forget about pouring out your emotional baggage to me. Forget about kissing me over and over. Forget me.

I could be there for you. But you won’t let me. The majority of the time I leave you feeling like shit. I don’t even know why I want to be there for you. I just do. That’s the question of the hour, isn’t it? And one I’ll never know the answer to. And one that will never be validated because you’re finally out of my life, but not out of my mind.

I should have left you behind in 2015, but at least I didn’t waste too much of my time on you in this new year. You’re clearly not worth it. If only I could get that through my head.