#iwishthingsweredifferent

I don’t know why I care.

It’s been weeks without you, and it was my choice. It should’ve happened a long time ago, but I didn’t have to courage to leave. I didn’t have the courage to leave someone that I loved.

Yes, I loved you.

I loved you even though you were toxic. I loved you even though you made me hate myself.

But isn’t that what love is? Isn’t love where you’re supposed to put someone else’s happiness before your own? Isn’t love where you would do anything just so you could see them happy, even if it meant jeopardizing your own happiness?

I thought that’s what love was. As soon as I saw those eyes, I knew I was in trouble. Those haunting, beautiful green eyes. They were legitimately the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. I walked into that room and laid eyes on you for the first time and I was hooked. I wished so bad that you would’ve given me the time of day- but I felt like I was just so out of your league.

I feel like that has always been the problem. I was way out of your league, even when we dated. I mean, it should’ve been obvious. You were that tall, muscular athletic guy that epitomized my type. I was that short, nerdy girl who was way too awkward to be with a guy like you. I should’ve seen the red flags right away. But I guess that’s what youth and naivety do to you.

The said part was, I was unavailable. Four years of my life had been devoted to my boyfriend at the time. We were skating on thin ice at that time, so I guess the idea of you was even more appealing to me. That first day I left work, I saw a friend request from you. I was so ecstatic. Then we started talking. Slowly but surely, every single day, we began talking and you were flirting and the fucked up thing was that I was okay with it.

So, I went with my heart. I left my relationship behind and I went for it- I started falling for you. You were that charming guy I always dreamed of. We started talking more and more and we hung out on a semi-regular basis. We worked together so much to the point where they put us on different shifts because we didn’t get shit done. I fell in love with the way that you told me what I wanted to hear, whether just through a long goodnight text or whenever I saw you. 

But love made me blind. I fell for you so hard, so fast that I couldn’t see the warning signs right in front of me. At first, you were afraid I was going to find someone else so you begged me not to talk to other guys and to stay loyal to you. Okay, simple enough- it’s not like it was hard, I liked you and I wanted to be with you. You were hurt before, so you said, and I understood that. So, no matter how annoying it got, I ensured you every day that you were the only one I spoke to.

Then, it got worse. I had to constantly ensure you that I wasn’t doing stupid shit like going out drinking and to parties where there would be other guys. Okay...I was never a huge party animal but there was no harm in having a fun night with my girlfriends. But, that wasn’t acceptable either. Anytime that I told you I was going with my friends, you instantly got pissed and jealous and acted like an infant in a full-blown temper tantrum. 

Fourth of July came, and I waited all day for you. All I wanted was that ideal night under the fireworks with the guy I really liked. But I had to wait for you all day. That’s what’s sad. It was always a waiting game with you and at your beck and call I had to be ready for you. If I wasn’t, I was cheating on you. So that night, instead of you holding me from behind and kissing me underneath the fireworks, I had to endure insult after insult of how I “fucked other guys” all day and you “hope I had fun partying” with all of my friends’ boyfriends at my girlfriend’s family party- while I was waiting for you to decide to come get me.

You ruined my night. And sadly, that was only the first time and not the last.

All summer I spent making myself available for you whenever it was to your convenience. You started making these fucked up stipulations- we had to hang out at night, we always just drove around, I always had to have my hair straightened and my makeup flawless. I should’ve ran there. But I didn’t. And those aren’t even the worst things.

The worst thing was that you told me that you didn’t know if you could date me.

You gave me the typical line of bullshit. You were hurt, you were cheated on, and you didn’t want to get hurt again, blah blah blah. Of course. So I gave you time until just before you left to go back to college.

I finally met your family. I felt like we were taking a crucial step in the right direction just before you left. And that night, that August 11th when we were laying in your bed, you asked me to be your girlfriend. FINALLY. But first, I had to agree to the terms and conditions.

“Okay babe, but just nothing on social media for now, okay?”

But why?

“I just don’t like people getting into my personal business.”

If that wasn’t the biggest red flag of them all, I don’t know what was. But of course, I agreed. I finally had you and that was what mattered to me. But things just continued to get worse. 

I don’t know how many times you were being sneaky, but I noticed. I noticed the little things about how you always laid your phone face down whenever we went out to eat or you never let your phone out of your hand. I caught on to your tricks. I snuck around, and I don’t care if you know or not. I would pull up your Facebook Messenger while you were in the shower and see how many girls were there and asking them all to hang out. I messaged your ex, and I found out you were still talking to her. I brought it up to you. Your excuse? She’s crazy, why would I still be talking to her? I found texts on your phone between you and other girls, ranging from “Oh, you should come hang out” to “You should let me punish you, I’d bend you over my desk and do you like my homework.” Your excuse? Miranda, we were friends in high school, that’s how our friendship was. I found that your two ex-girlfriends were two of your best friends on Snapchat. Your excuse? I want to rub in their face how much better I am without them. I found you ask a girl for her number on her Facebook wall. Your excuse? I’m trying to set her up with my friend. I read your Tinder messages and witness you ask multiple girls to come stay with you and if you could take their virginity. Your excuse? Miranda, it’s a joke, they’re only fifteen, why would I actually do that?

You know, the worst thing about it all was that I forgave you every single time. I forgave you for all the girls you fucked around with behind my back that I know about (and God forbid the ones I don’t.) I forgave you for making me give up time with my friends and sit alone in my room while you went out and did God knows what. I forgave you for getting pissed off at me whenever I was upset that I couldn’t post a picture of us on Instagram or say that we were in a relationship on Facebook.

I forgave you for all of that.

But there are some things I will never, ever forgive you for. I will never forgive you for how much heartache you put me through. I will never forgive you for making me feel like I repulsed you and like I embarrassed you to the point where you never even wanted to touch me or even acknowledge that you were dating me. I will never forgive you for only making me feel good enough when I did your math homework for you or came to see you at 1am to write a paper for you that you had due. I will never forgive you for how you made me cry night after night wondering why I was never good enough for someone like you. And I sure as hell will never forgive you for being the biggest hypocrite I know and trying to trap me in a relationship with you by threatening to take your life- just so you had the upper hand.

I will admit, it literally crushed my heart into a thousand pieces to end things with you. I saw you as literally a dream come true, just with a temper problem. But I handled that before, so I didn’t see the problem in doing so again. But you scared me. I didn’t know what you were going to do to yourself and I definitely didn’t know what you were going to do to me. You threatened to show up at my college. You threatened so much to me, and I was scared of you keeping your word for once.

It’s been 33 days. I got out of your grasps and stood on my own two wobbly feet and said that I had enough. You pretended that you cared for a while, but of course it was just an act. The talking to other girls never stopped, as I imagined it wouldn’t. And yet, it’s been 33 days and I just want to know why. 

Why was I never good enough for you? Why was what I did for you not enough?

Even though you fucked me up more than you can imagine, I still blame myself. I still feel too damaged to be good enough for anybody. I still feel like I’m unlovable. I wish to God that you were different. I wish to God that you were actually that guy who grabbed my hand in the car and drive together in silence and grabbed me by the face and told me how much you loved me before you kissed me goodbye and I left you for the week. Those are the moments that still sting. 

I don’t know why I still care. I don’t know why any part of my being still misses you. But I guess that’s just who I am. And however fucked up our “secretive” relationship was, I don’t hate you. I don’t think I could hate you. However, I do wish you luck in finding some girl who can put up with half of the shit that I dealt with for the past six months.

I’m hoping one day I won’t think about you. Maybe if I could go back and erase the past six months of my life, I would. I’m hoping that one day I can realize that I deserve better than you.