9 months. 9 long, arduous months. Every day it’s a struggle not to think about you and what you did to me after I poured everything I had into you. How much you took from me, how much you never gave back. How you never appreciated any of it. How I was just a rebound.
It’s finally gotten to the point where I hardly think of you at all. Every time I do it’s a little kick in the chest, but it at least doesn’t happen as much anymore. Yet I still think of the night you abandoned me and didn’t even have the courage to say anything to my face.
How I haven’t been able to be with anyone because I’m afraid they’ll leave me for a loser. Like you did.
How I go to sleep at night wondering why I wasted so much on you. How you got to get away with a clear conscience and I had to deal with all of the fallout, even though you were the one that hurt me.
How I can’t stop having nightmares about you.
Doesn’t matter, someday someone will do to you what you did to me, and I won’t be around to help you pick up the pieces.