I wanted you to fight a little harder for me.
I wanted you to tell me that you don’t want me to go, that you will try harder, that you will find a solution and I wanted you to tell me that I’m worth the risk, I’m worth the change. I wanted you to tell me that you’d rather live with me than without me.
I wanted you to hold onto me.
But you didn’t. You didn’t even try to stop me when I was leaving, you didn’t try to say goodbye, you didn’t even ask me if I truly wanted to leave or if I was just acting out of anger.
And I don’t know what hurts more, you not fighting for me, or you not knowing me enough to know that sometimes I do stupid things to get a little more love from you.
But I walked away and you didn’t follow me, you didn’t ask me for one more chance and you didn’t ask me if I will be okay without you.
And in that moment, I realized that you never really fought for me in the beginning to fight for me in the end.
Everything was your way, at your convenience, when you had the time — everything didn’t require an effort from you– everything was my fault.
I trained you that it was normal for me to please you and not ask for anything in return and I trained you that I’ll never ask for more than you can handle.
Maybe you wanted more and maybe you didn’t, but either way, you never fought for more, you never asked for more and you never wanted me more.
And I know you said that fighting shouldn’t be part of love, that you shouldn’t fight for people who exit your life, but sometimes you have to fight for people to stay in your life. You have to give them a reason to stay.
And I wanted you to give me a reason, a sign — a hand to hold.
But you chose not to and I was going to fight for you until I realized you never wanted to be an opponent and there is no point in fighting when the battle is already lost.
I wanted you to fight for me but you didn’t.
I wanted to fight for you but I fought for myself instead.