Russel,
I don’t want to see the day when you two will be happy, my love living his best life, because it pains me to think that that one heck of a guy isn’t with me… And I wanted to be with that person. I’ve loved you in all your imperfections and all that you are and all that you are not. Now you have a future to build with Paula, and… You will never comprehend the depth of my love for you. You had to follow the script; you had to follow the wrong script…
It was in the tiniest things, then they all towered and manifested into something greater than Thanos’s glove, and it hurt when I got slapped by it in the face. It was in the inconsistencies in your story—how you told me James Reid’s “Cool Down” was shitty because it gave off fuckboy/softboi vibes, then I hear from Paula that you told her it sounds cool. It hurts that your mom knew about her more than me, and the way you wanted me to meet your mom? I was not too keen on meeting anyone’s parents, but you said you wanted me to, so I said I’ll think about it and then I’ll tell you. You wanted to pretend I was going to be in the same place as you guys by accident, and then you’d say, “Motha, what a surprise.” And that we broke up in September? Weren’t we just pretending to be Instagram baddies on November 30? Didn’t you just say you missed me while I was away in Baguio? Weren’t you just crying in my arms when we snuck in your cousin’s room that first weekend of January this year?
Going through our entire exchange and then realizing that you’ve been lying all this time hurts, but I’m too at a loss to even get mad at you. You may probably not understand how you’ve hurt me because, really, you’re okay. I never saw a hint of remorse in your eyes the last time we talked. Besides, you were the one who snagged another girl to inflate your ego. Your friends say you were happiest with me, but if you were, then how come I got cheated on? I’m sorry I’m not enough for you, but I know I never failed to remind you to break up with me if you don’t want me anymore. I know I’m not a perfect girlfriend; it was a challenge to open up, to start a relationship and remain in one. Sex was almost out of the equation for me, too. I’m sorry I’m not changing that for you, but you could have just told me that maybe it was already too much.
It would have been easier to forgive the sex. You might have only gotten drunk with the other frat guys. You might have only gotten cornered into fucking someone. Maybe I’d care less had you done it after we fought and I told you to go fuck someone else. Yeah, maybe that would’ve been easier to forgive. But I asked if I could take that back and you said yes, that there was no one else, and that there won’t be because that’s downright stupid if you did that. It stings how she was every bit your girlfriend as much as I was. She knows you like the back of her hand as much as I do (with mine). There was nothing set aside for me that I could call my own, or ours; not even one story, or a single inch of skin in your body that only I could touch.
You lied through your teeth and assured me that you were committed in this relationship, and despite everything that was happening last December, I wanted to push on and keep this alive, because that was commitment, right? You don’t give up just like that and you try to work it out. I told you I was starting to lose interest in everything, including the relationship, but I held on, because I was willing to take it as one of our down days. No relationship is perfect, right? You shouldn’t have wasted my time, because now, all I think about is how you were out there fucking someone else, and I’m sure it was hella good (hell yeah, you’d say). You must have been satisfied with all those times she showed you herself and I couldn’t. It must have been worth every apology and lie when you jacked off on the image of her body, telling me how you were sorry that you’ve been sleeping a lot, because I’ll never be that girl for you, anyway. Because I can never give you that. I was thinking of you, and there you were fucking her over and over. I was making plans for Valentine’s, worrying if I could make it on time, and you were fucking someone else. God, you were fucking someone else… And you said you weren’t. That’s all I could think of right now, that you were fucking someone else, and how it was easy for you to do this to me. You were fucking her, and you were fucking enjoying it, and that’s fucking hard to get out of my head.
This feels like writing to the wind, because I know that even if you come across this, my words will only go in one ear and out on the other. You don’t give a rat’s ass about me. Maybe you never really did. You’re just sad you’re on house arrest now. You’re only guilty, because people say that you did us dirty, but you can’t realize the gravity of what you’ve done on your own accord. Now, I’ll just be one of those crazy exes in your sob stories, and I gave you what I could even when I don’t have much.
I was nothing but a feeble attempt to fill the void in you.
And I loved you goddamned well, in all the mess and shit that I am.
I don’t want to see the day when you two will be happy, my love living his best life, because it pains me to think that that one heck of a guy isn’t with me… And I wanted to be with that person. I’ve loved you in all your imperfections and all that you are and all that you are not. Now you have a future to build with Paula, and… You will never comprehend the depth of my love for you. You had to follow the script; you had to follow the wrong script…
It was in the tiniest things, then they all towered and manifested into something greater than Thanos’s glove, and it hurt when I got slapped by it in the face. It was in the inconsistencies in your story—how you told me James Reid’s “Cool Down” was shitty because it gave off fuckboy/softboi vibes, then I hear from Paula that you told her it sounds cool. It hurts that your mom knew about her more than me, and the way you wanted me to meet your mom? I was not too keen on meeting anyone’s parents, but you said you wanted me to, so I said I’ll think about it and then I’ll tell you. You wanted to pretend I was going to be in the same place as you guys by accident, and then you’d say, “Motha, what a surprise.” And that we broke up in September? Weren’t we just pretending to be Instagram baddies on November 30? Didn’t you just say you missed me while I was away in Baguio? Weren’t you just crying in my arms when we snuck in your cousin’s room that first weekend of January this year?
Going through our entire exchange and then realizing that you’ve been lying all this time hurts, but I’m too at a loss to even get mad at you. You may probably not understand how you’ve hurt me because, really, you’re okay. I never saw a hint of remorse in your eyes the last time we talked. Besides, you were the one who snagged another girl to inflate your ego. Your friends say you were happiest with me, but if you were, then how come I got cheated on? I’m sorry I’m not enough for you, but I know I never failed to remind you to break up with me if you don’t want me anymore. I know I’m not a perfect girlfriend; it was a challenge to open up, to start a relationship and remain in one. Sex was almost out of the equation for me, too. I’m sorry I’m not changing that for you, but you could have just told me that maybe it was already too much.
It would have been easier to forgive the sex. You might have only gotten drunk with the other frat guys. You might have only gotten cornered into fucking someone. Maybe I’d care less had you done it after we fought and I told you to go fuck someone else. Yeah, maybe that would’ve been easier to forgive. But I asked if I could take that back and you said yes, that there was no one else, and that there won’t be because that’s downright stupid if you did that. It stings how she was every bit your girlfriend as much as I was. She knows you like the back of her hand as much as I do (with mine). There was nothing set aside for me that I could call my own, or ours; not even one story, or a single inch of skin in your body that only I could touch.
You lied through your teeth and assured me that you were committed in this relationship, and despite everything that was happening last December, I wanted to push on and keep this alive, because that was commitment, right? You don’t give up just like that and you try to work it out. I told you I was starting to lose interest in everything, including the relationship, but I held on, because I was willing to take it as one of our down days. No relationship is perfect, right? You shouldn’t have wasted my time, because now, all I think about is how you were out there fucking someone else, and I’m sure it was hella good (hell yeah, you’d say). You must have been satisfied with all those times she showed you herself and I couldn’t. It must have been worth every apology and lie when you jacked off on the image of her body, telling me how you were sorry that you’ve been sleeping a lot, because I’ll never be that girl for you, anyway. Because I can never give you that. I was thinking of you, and there you were fucking her over and over. I was making plans for Valentine’s, worrying if I could make it on time, and you were fucking someone else. God, you were fucking someone else… And you said you weren’t. That’s all I could think of right now, that you were fucking someone else, and how it was easy for you to do this to me. You were fucking her, and you were fucking enjoying it, and that’s fucking hard to get out of my head.
This feels like writing to the wind, because I know that even if you come across this, my words will only go in one ear and out on the other. You don’t give a rat’s ass about me. Maybe you never really did. You’re just sad you’re on house arrest now. You’re only guilty, because people say that you did us dirty, but you can’t realize the gravity of what you’ve done on your own accord. Now, I’ll just be one of those crazy exes in your sob stories, and I gave you what I could even when I don’t have much.
I was nothing but a feeble attempt to fill the void in you.
And I loved you goddamned well, in all the mess and shit that I am.