I’ve always just made the assumption that eventually all of my efforts would be appreciated. I always thought that you would, one day, start to feel about me the way that I have about you for so long.
I stayed by your side while you dated other girls. I watched you give other people the attention I wanted so badly from you. When you finally did choose me, it was directly before you moved away. I didn’t leave your side. I stayed. I wanted it to work.
I’ve stayed by your side through being broken up with entirely too many times to mention. Through waiting and not being spoken to for days or weeks so you could ‘think about what you want’, for it to always be the same outcome. For me to have my heart broken just a little more than the last time. I still never walked away.
I’ve been there through endless depression flare ups. Through being ignored for weeks. Through constantly being worried that you were going to leave me again. Through feeling like I always have to convince you to want to be with me, when that’s something you should want to do all on your own.
I shouldn’t have to convince you to want me. That never should’ve happened.
I did everything I could possibly do to make you happy. Random gifts, cute texts, constantly reminded you of how important you were to me, made sure you knew how much I loved you at least twice a day, legit went out of my way to spoil you in every way possible, supported all of your goals and dreams, and committed to doing everything in my power to help you achieve them…
Just because you being happy made me happy. I wanted you to have everything you wanted, because I felt like you deserved every bit of it and more. I never once did anything to hurt you. I still never would.
However, none of that was enough. My not giving up on you through things anyone else would leave in a heartbeat over, wasn’t enough. My being more understanding than any other person in their right mind would be, wasn’t enough. The fact that through everything, I was still there, and still loved you, and still wanted you, wasn’t enough.
I wasn’t enough.
You left, again. And this time, I’m letting you. I’m not going to ask you to stay, because I’m not the one making you leave. You are.
I offered to do anything to be with you. You told me no. At some point in time, I have to accept the fact that you just don’t want me. That no matter what I do, or how much I stay through, I will never be enough for you.
That point in time is now.
I wanted a life with you, yes. I wanted a future with you, absolutely. Do I still want those things? Yeah. I do. Will I ever get them? No…because you refuse to give us a chance.
So now, I’m done giving chances.
I’m done getting my heart broken.
I’m done giving all of myself to someone who obviously thinks it isn’t enough.
I’m done waiting for something that will never happen.
I love you, but I have to love myself more. I have to acknowledge the fact that I deserve more than being left, and hurt. More than constantly worrying. More than feeling like all of me isn’t enough.
Maybe one day you’ll realize what you had. One day when you’re with someone else, and she doesn’t get you the way I do. When she bails the first time you need time to figure things out. When she doesn’t understand why you don’t talk for a week at a time. When she gets offended at all the things I used to laugh at.
Maybe then you’ll see it. Maybe then you’ll appreciate it. By then, it’ll probably be too late, though; and at that point, you’ll understand heartbreak.
You’ll finally see how it feels to want someone that’s perfect for you, and have no way to make them see how much they mean to you, or what you could be for them if given the chance. You’ll know how I’ve felt this entire time. Not until then will you understand what you’ve made me feel.
I love you. I probably always will. But, I have to let you go.
I have to love myself more.