I hate you

Dear Ex,

I was watching TV and trying not to think about you. Then a beautiful man with your name fell in love with a character with my name. Irrelevant. But seriously? It seems like the world is trying to keep you in my head.

It’s been a month since you dumped me. And Hon, we were never that compatible but just like with everything I do I gave it my all. When I told my mom that I didn’t love you she said “Are you sure?” And I realized that I did love you. Despite your bad skin. Despite your apathy. Despite not having the same interests, values (what are your values again?), future goals or standards for appearance (you always dressed like shit) I had managed to actually kind of love you.

I told you about my eating disorder, which in retrospect was a huge mistake. I think it freaked you out, though you seemed not to care. You were not mature enough to discuss the situation. I should have known better. I am honestly sorry I told you. I also told you you were helping me get better, which sucks because I’m not going to lie: you’re gone and it has gotten bad again. BUT I’m working on it. I’m going to get healthy and be fine without you.

Sometimes I miss you a lot. I lied that one time we talked, I’m not hooking up with that beautiful guy I showed you on Facebook. My best friend is hooking up with him. I haven’t kissed anyone since you dumped me, and I know you have. So good for you. Good for moving on. Good call not getting too attached, nice self preservation to back out before that eating disorder chick got too attached. Let me just remind YOU said YOU LOVED ME first. You wanted the relationship – it was completely initiated by you you you. But that’s silly, isn’t it, talking about what happened first? What matters is what happened last. And the ending was not mutual, not dignified, no, Honey, congrats: it was all you.

I already wrote you a letter that I didn’t send – sad, right, this is letter number 2? I’m seeing you at a party our mutual friend is having this weekend. I’ll try not to cry, throw myself at you, or make a scene. Your not worth it. I will try to be dignified, to forget that you’re holding half my secrets in your careless asshole head. I hate you. I hate you for leaving me when this was your idea. Fuck you, and I’ll see you this weekend.

P.S. I think of you when I puke. But, hopefully, not for much longer.


Leave a reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *


This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.