We had everything. We had the perfect chemistry, we had the greatest laughs, and we just understood each other in a way that everything we did together was in sync. It amazed us how perfect things were, how our different personalities just came together to form a perfect union between us. We were infinite.
But you were a jerk to me. You broke up with me with no previous warnings, just with bitter silence and later with hurtful words. I know it wasn’t what you really wanted, but you were not “ready to take care of someone like me.” I dwelled on it for a year and a half.
Was I too high maintenance? Did I come off as superficial?
I was relatively successful for my age and had lots of hopes and dreams for the future, and I was ready to accomplish and reach them all: with you…I had no limits.
Until my world fell apart with that one phone call, and those three words no girl wants to hear: “I’m not ready.”
What did that even mean?
I was hurt like I’ve never been hurt before. I had always been the heart breaker, breaking up with boys I didn’t see a future with, and truth be told, giving them hope when there really was none at all. For the first time, I felt what I had done to so many others all my life. I felt shattered, humiliated, and deceived. But I accepted it. I took a deep breath in the mornings when I woke up without you, and pressed my temples hard when I wanted to cry. I was bitter. I was angry. I snarled a la Godzilla when someone said, “time heals everything.” I didn’t want time. And if I couldn’t have you, I wanted an explanation—closure.
But time did pass. And I did heal. I was no longer angry and bitter but content and satisfied. I lived my life, and slowly accomplished the goals and realized the dreams I had shared with you.
Until you came back. Slowly creeping into my life through social media, cute texts of cat memes that I love, complimenting me ever so slightly. And then that wasn’t enough, so you asked to see me. Maybe just get a drink? And so we did. I drove an hour and a half to see you. You were there, waiting for me. You were wearing a plaid shirt and everything came back: the chemistry, our great laughs, and you understood me as well as I understood you.
Then you kissed me. And for a second, I loved you again. Just as much as a year and a half before. You held my waist, and you bit my lip softly, like you know I liked. We listened to music in your car, head bopping to ridiculous pop that we oh so hated. I made you laugh. You loved me for that second, too.
And we hung out a second time. We watched our favorite saga, debating whether BB-8 or R2D2 had a bigger space in our hearts. You held me closer and prepared me for one of the saddest scenes, and you held my hand tighter when you knew I was about to cry. After, we kissed, and spent another hour just listening to music kissing to Indie rock. I loved you for that second.
And you loved me, too.
And then we hung out for a third time. With all your friends. They all love me. But this time, you weren’t exactly cute with me anymore, as if you wanted to hide how you truly felt. You weren’t inviting. You kept looking at me, as if reassuring me of how you felt, but nothing was said. Other girls caught your attention. Not necessarily that you were attracted to them, but I was put on the side. I didn’t mind, and started talking to some older friends. The girls were naïve and irrelevant; I let it go.
I said goodbye but left without saying goodbye to you. As I was leaving, I didn’t look back, because I knew you weren’t going to come after me. I knew expectations almost never align with reality. And I drove away.
I listened to Beyoncé to empower myself and remind myself who I was; it seemed as if I had forgotten. And then I decided:
This is where I leave you.
This is where I leave your secretiveness and your inability to say how you feel. Your disregard for my emotions, and the disrespect towards my persona. This is where I leave our chemistry. It is where I realize that I deserve someone who loves me, someone who can say the three words that can change a girl’s life forever. Someone who will be grateful I’m by their side, someone who will flaunt me to their friends. Someone who would realize there is no other girl than me for them.
This is where I stop. This is where I breathe.
This is where I leave you.