The Way They Leave Tells You Everything.

I shouldn’t be laying on my bedroom floor in my now dried towel at 3 A.M. after my 4th shower of trying to wash you off of me.

I shouldn’t be driving myself insane over the questions of who she was, of who she is, of what she is that I’m not,

of why I wasn’t enough.

Was I ever enough to begin with? Did you ever think I could suffice or was I just an accessory the entire time?

I shouldn’t be feeling like this is my fault, like there is something inherently wrong with me that causes some fatal break each time I begin to open my trust again.

I shouldn’t be blaming myself for your infidelities and your unmerited dishonesty when all I ever asked was for the truth.

but here I am.

I gave you every opportunity to tell me and no reason to feel like you couldn’t. I told you, I just wanted honesty. I just wanted to know what was going on in your mind, even if it wasn’t me. I gave you everything. I gave you more patience, kindness, love, and chances than you deserved. The truth was all I ever asked of you and you couldn’t even give me that.

I made it clear, again and again, that you were all I wanted. You had no reason to fear me finding another, especially when in the end, you were the one who ended up doing just that, all while telling me you loved me.

I just…

I don’t understand how you can claim to care so deeply, to adore someone so infinitely and treat them with less propriety than you do strangers.

Don’t tell me you’re sorry, that I was “the best girl you’ve ever known” and given you more than you deserve. I don’t care for your self pity and longing for the loss of what you never deserved. You should’ve cherished me while you had my heart in your hands instead of tossing it onto the pavement to free up room for another’s touch. Your selfish sorrow has no place here.

If you had told me, if I had heard it from you instead of a chain of others, maybe this would’ve turned out differently. If you hadn’t blatantly lied again and again, even after I gave you open chances, maybe this never would’ve been written and I’d be in your arms right now.

Instead, I feel if I never see you again, that may be too soon.

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