To The Guy Who Hurt Me First Because He Was Scared

It doesn’t make sense. You know I can walk away without looking back and manage to be on my own. You keep telling me and everyone that I’m the one and you won’t do anything that would make me regret choosing you. You know that that you will be the one struggling to keep up with your everyday routine if I’ll be gone. That you’ll see me everywhere and be reminded of the mistake you did over and over, until your mind becomes hazy and it will all boil down to hating yourself for doing me wrong.

It’s you who will be downing drinks because the girl who never lets anyone but put down her walls for you, left. It’s you who will be eaten up with regret and guilt, someone who won’t recognize himself for being able to scar someone so badly. You know that when it comes to an end, I get to be okay and put on a smile like nothing happened, because for you, that’s how I am anyway–cold and stoic.

Is that the reason why? Why you hurt me in a way that disregarded all the beautiful things we’ve been through? Is it why you did what you did? To hurt me deeper and tear me apart before I completely rip you in pieces? Because it doesn’t make sense at all, how you managed to betray someone you claim to love so much. I don’t understand how you were able to live with yourself, telling me that I’m the only thing that’s right after doing the biggest and dirtiest mistake one can do to their lover. I don’t get how you asked too much of me when you let someone else have a piece of you.

Because even if we were a mess and I wasn’t the easiest thing to handle, I put you first. You were on top of my list. I broke down my walls for you because I thought you deserved nothing less than what I can offer. I shared with you all my fears and scars because I believed that letting you enter my life won’t be something I would regret later on. I gave you parts of myself I hadn’t even known were there. I showed you all of my parts because you felt like home. We weren’t perfect and but we were fucking beautiful in our own way.

But baby, even if I try to remember all the good things, I can’t erase what you did. The most pathetic, unjustified way to get back at me is when you intentionally hurt me just because you can’t handle my intensity. It doesn’t work like that.

It’s not my fault for coming off too tough or voicing out my thoughts uncensored. Neither is it my fault for pushing you away when I want to breathe because I know being too close will just result in further damage. It will never be my fault for having an exterior like this, for being a fighter of what I want, for knowing how to stand on my own feet. I’m the sum of my experiences and I warned you that it won’t be easy. Nothing and no one ever is. This is who I am, it was what you accepted from the start–all my parts–or at least that’s what I thought you did.

It’s a shame things ended the way they did but I hope you find it in you to be better, to be able to control yourself when the road gets rocky. Don’t think about me. That’s what you did when you went behind my back anyway. I’ve been through so much worse, so what makes this a difference? Nothing I’m not capable of.

You can’t tone me down for being too much, you can’t control a girl who knows what she’s made of. You either take it all in or leave. And if you don’t know how to handle the intensity, then I’d gladly be the one to close the door and enjoy my own company.