I keep telling myself I’m better off without you.
I’m better off alone than loving someone who couldn’t love me back fully.
Your love was like a kaleidoscope of mixed colors, but instead of colors, was a combination of chaos, both good and bad.
And every good moment made me love you more. It was in the good moments that made me tolerate the bad.
And every bad night where we were cursing and screaming made me realize how deep I was in this thing.
People who were once so compatible became toxic together and we were hanging onto pain and the past, because that was all we had left.
It took everything in me to let you go. Because even when we parted ways, what you didn’t hear under my breath was “I still love you.”
I was overcome with a numb feeling upon driving away. What should have hurt me, left me relieved that it was over.
But it didn’t end there at goodbye. The love I had for you didn’t fade, but only grew more with your absence. And in everyone I met, I looked for you, in a desperate attempt to find myself once more.
I thought I’d find myself again saying goodbye, but all I realized was loving you made me lose who I was.
And there are nights where I lay awake wondering where you are. There are moments where I reach across my bed and remember when you were next to me.
But your company was one that made me feel lonely. Because even my best wasn’t enough.
And I know I’m better off laying in a bed too big for one, than laying next to someone who always kept me guessing. Someone whose mind changed every day and the only thing I could be sure of, was that it was me who would always be confused.
And I hung on to every word hoping and praying you’d mean it. Hoping maybe the slurred words in the late hours of the night as you crawled into my bed, you’d remember the next day. But I kept your false promises quietly tucked away. And what I held on to was hope. Hope that one day you’d change.
Maybe one day you’d mean those words sober.
My love came easy to you, but you pushed it and me away like it was some kind of burden.
And you always thought I’d be there. Something about my loyalty made you more confident. Something about me never wanting to leave, regardless of what happened made you feel more like a man. Something about pushing me down, built you up.
And I know you didn’t believe me when I said goodbye.
Like always, one of us would fold with some apology saying I love you. But I couldn’t keep loving you. The cost was self-destruction in the process. The cost was losing parts of myself to appease you. The cost was breaking my own heart trying to keep yours whole.
And I’ll never admit that I miss you. That I still think of you from time to time, and what we never will be. I just wish you were the man I thought you were, instead of the one you turned out to be.
And you’ll look back at me knowing very well I gave my best. But you can’t say that.
You gave me the worst pieces of yourself, and I tried to turn it into something magical.
You gave me the worst, and I loved you through it.
You gave me all your brokenness, and I cut my fingers trying to put you back together.
I learned sometimes it’s best to leave something as is it ,then hurt yourself trying to fix it.
But now it’s me who needs fixing because you broke me in ways I can’t fix it, and I’d feel a sense of guilt asking someone else to clean up your mess.
I keep telling myself I’m better off without you, and I look at my reflection which is a scattered version of someone who pretends to be whole.
And the only thing I can hold onto, is my pride and the fact I was strong enough to finally leave, even if it meant loving you with every step I walked further away.