The day you said “I don’t know what I’m doing here” I replied with “if you leave, you don’t have to come back” and you replied with “okay, it’s all over”, man, that day hurt. It was worse than that pain of tapping your little finger on the corner of the closet, you know? It was worse than ripping the scab off the wound and watching the wound bleed. It was worse than opening the packet of chips and seeing that there’s more air than anything else.

Before turning your back, you said the following sentence “you deserve better, it’s not you, it’s me”. I don’t know why, but I whispered an “I deserve you, you’re all I have, don’t leave me now.” But you left me, man. Along with those bears scattered around the room and all the vows of love that once made sense. You left me with that ridiculous question that I declaimed to the four corners and to all my friends “what did I do? Why did he leave me?” It took me a while to find the answer, but now that I found it, I decided to thank you. Leaving me was the best thing you could have done for me.

It’s obvious I cried. I cried until my lungs hurt, until I thought I had dried up all my store of tears and with that, I ended up discovering that I am an endless well of tears. Of course I missed it, man. Every time the doorbell rang, I believed deep down that it was the doorman calling to say that the guy with the tattoo on his neck was there, wanting to go up. I’ve waited for months for a call, a message, a nudge, an insta heart, an email, a letter or anything from you. I waited for you to call my mother and ask her what she could do to win me back. The answer would be “just show up, man”.

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Just show up. Not disappear and come back when someone else has already taken your place. Disappear for months and appear when another contact appeared, you knew it would be easy for me and you knew that all you had to do was send something and I would be yours. Again.

As the months went by and after I’d let a lot of nice guys slip by, I discovered your move. Seeing me with another guy poked your ego. It seems like we like to get hurt so much, huh? It seems that nudging each other with false expectations alleviates some of the guilt. Did it ease yours a little?

I made little balls with the paper you put me through, and with them, I decided to write a new story. You know long hair? I cut it and painted it, you know, it looks wonderful. I went out with my friends, I went to the movies alone, I found kisses with better taste than yours in clubs. I had dinner with my parents and realized that book deliveries make me feel more butterflies in my stomach than waiting for you to show up. I adopted a cat, bought aquariums and filled it with fish. I’ve changed my wardrobe, changed the color of my lipstick, and I’m still listening to the same songs.

Because of you, I stopped believing in prince charming, carriages and fairy tales. But it was because of you that I discovered that I deserve someone better, that loves come and go, and that despite the pain, loving is too beautiful to be locked away under lock and key, just because someone preferred to love someone else.