You left. You closed the door and you walked out of my life as easily as you had walked into it. And there was me, sitting behind that door, my head pressed against it, wishing, hoping, praying you would come back. It took three weeks for me to actually start feeling something more than numb after you left. Three weeks of living off pizza and take out boxes, living inside my bed, never opening the curtains, feeling like a zombie for me to actually pick myself up and force myself into life. And it was jarring, and it was heart breaking, and it was hard. I felt like you had literally taken whatever life was inside me when you walked out the door.
You gave me no closure. All you said was that you didn’t love me anymore. And you left. I found it inside myself to block and delete you from all of my social media because I couldn’t bear it, I just couldn’t bear to see you after everything that had happened between us. It took so long for me to get over you, to move past you, to forgive the way you left me.
And here you are. Sauntering back into my life again, when I have finally found happiness, finally found a way to forget you.
Did you really think it would be that easy? That an “I’m sorry.” will lead me to forget how cold you were when you left? That an “I made a mistake.” makes this a forgivable thing? Let me explain something to you that I learned in your absence:
I love myself far too much to allow you back into my life ever again. You were a dangerous thing that made me question my existence without you. Well, not only did I learn to live without you, I learned how much better life is when one person is not your universe.
So you can go right back out that door where you came from. You’re damned right you made a mistake. You learned too late how much I loved you, how much I did for you. You learned too late that I was good for you. Now I’m being good for the people who actually matter to me. People who actually value me and think I deserve the kind of love that doesn’t leave.
And I am at at the very top of that list.