I left you. I have to accept that it was the saddest thing to do.
You were amazing to me.
You were funny.
You were nice.
You made me happy.
It felt good being with you.
That’s what got me to leave you.
Like always, first came the happiness and then, the insecurity and fear.
It’s about time, I realise that what I do is wrong and what I did before you, was worse. You were my distraction and for quite some time, it was enough to keep me sane.
Then, something snapped within me and brought me back to reality.
It made me realise that I am not supposed to be with someone I don’t love and in another one of my failed attempts to revive my petty excuse of a soul, I let you go.
It was good for you.
You were stuck with me.
And, I would have shredded you.
Stripped you of your hopes and dreams, only to wake up a few years from now knowing that you weren’t enough for me.
How could I though?
How could I go on, breaking and tearing you to help me become whole again?
It would have been wrong but honestly, I would have loved that - to feel happy and content, no matter what it made you go through.
I didn’t want that for you.
I refused to create another me.
I refused to be like my ex, who had left me standing at the altar.
So, I chose the worst time to break your heart, just in time for you to save yourself from the disaster they call me.
At least, right now, you hate me and it’s proof that you can be saved.
Me? It’s too late for me.
I hope someday you will forgive me for never loving you right and thank me for allowing you to be loved by someone who does.
You will find me again; drunk, old and alone, sitting across that bar we met for the first time.
Till then, goodbye.
Someone that you used to know.