To The Ex Who Still Haunts Me


This is the last time I try. I promise.

It’s 2:53 in the morning.

I bet you’re asleep. I wish I can still tell you I’m not. And that you’ll scold me for staying up this late. And tell me it’s late so I’d better stop talking and just go to bed.

But I can’t.

And I hope you know how much that kills me inside. I know I shouldn’t care anymore. And maybe I don’t. Not the same way as before, anyway. I told myself that a hundred times. It’s just that the saddest part about our relationship is that it was never meant to be. But maybe sadder is the fact that I knew it wasn’t going to last but I hoped. I hoped so very badly that it would. But you never loved me. Maybe there was a time you thought you did, and damn, I thought you did too.

But. But you were too afraid. You still are. That’s what drives you, isn’t it? Fear. When you told me to control my fear of heights, you only wanted me to think rationally, didn’t you? And when you saw I couldn’t, you thought I did it on purpose. You told yourself that why should you control your fear of commitment if I couldn’t do the same for you? Your belief in equal exchange is a bitch sometimes.

I was never enough for you. Not smart, pretty, sporty or talkative enough. Everything I was good at, you never really cared about. I wanted to impress you so much, that in the process, I lost myself. I lost everything that made me who I was when we were together until I could barely recognize who I was.

I only wanted you to be the one. I wanted to be the one for you, too. But now I know I could never live with myself if I changed my whole being just to please you. And I had to stop. And you taught me that sometimes, what we want don’t usually work out for us.

And maybe that’s for the best. This is the last time I try. To hold on, I mean. Funny, I never even noticed I was holding on to you. Until she broke up with you and my heart just broke. I realized I care if you’re happy or not.

I’ve always thought I was okay, and it seems that way too… until suddenly it’s not. Until your face pops into my head again and sears my heart with the pain of our goodbye as if we only did it yesterday.

But this is the last time. I know that now, I promise.

I promise.

featured image – Helga Weber