What is it about sleepy nights that makes my mind go back to you? Perhaps it is from weakness and fatigue, or maybe I'm not just fully over you like I thought I was. As much as I like to think, or whenever I get to a point, that I am really over you, and that I have moved on, my fucked up self always seems to bring back a memory about you.
Do I still think about you? Yes, of course. I wonder if you still think of me or if maybe you reminisce about the times that were great for us, when we were and had everything and when we thought there would never be anyone else. Or maybe that was only me who thought that and I just bought into everything you ever told me (like your engagement ring you wore on your neck but you told me was a ring from your Grandmother). What you did was really fucked up, but why am I still considered the enemy from this? Moreover, why do I blame myself?
You might think that I want nothing but total misery for you, but to be honest I don't. I hope you are happy, and in some way I know that you are. Besides the fact that we had sex a week before your wedding, I think the reason why I'm still so hurt by what happened is because I'm not the guy that is making you happy now. After knowing you as long as I have, I know why you married him and I can't fault you for it, but how you did it, and especially the reason WHY you did it, really shows your full character. You took the easy way out and, no matter how much I'll keep loving you, I don't think I could ever respect you again.
There was a time while trying to console my pitiful self, while I'm sure beyond a reasonable doubt you were having the time of your life (and yes, love, that was sarcasm), that I thought how lucky he was to have you. However in retrospect, maybe I am the one who is lucky, because I avoided being with the biggest coward I know. Speaking of cowards, you know, you truly are more like your dad than I gave credit to. Why? Because you both are liars, you both are full of shit, you both are perhaps the biggest hypocrites I have ever met, you are both huge cowards, and last but not least you both are extremely self-absorbed. You are truly all of those things and more. And when I mean by more, I mean, to be frank, you are a stupid bitch and a whore (if I am being too harsh, I apologize but you were never so forgive yourself). Why do I call you a whore? Because only a true whore would gossip how shameful and unmoral it to to sleep around while she, herself, was doing the same thing (which reminds me, what excuse did you come up with when your husband found out you were with me a week before you said your "I dos"? I always wanted to ask because you had an endless stream of them when I found out you messed around, a lot). The reasons of why you are a stupid bitch does not have to be explained.
As easy as it may be for you not to think of me, it's not so easy for me. I truly did care about you, and I don't think you will ever fathom how much I really did love and care for you. Your mom told me that you didn't tell me about your marriage because you loved and cared about me too much to tell me. What bullshit from both you and your mom. When you finally decided to tell me yourself after being a month too late, after finding out about it from 3 different people, leading me to confront you about it, you told me that "our story" was like that of The Umbrellas of Cherbourg. As creative of a comparison that was, you couldn't be further from the truth. Unlike you, Geneviève had the nerve to tell Guy that she was going to marry Roland; you didn't didn't have the decency nor the guts to do that. Nevertheless, there are some similarities to both stories. 1) Geneviève mostly married Roland because her mother advised her to. Wait... didn't your parents do the same thing? 2) Geneviève took the easy way out of her situation. Huh, that's funny, you did the same thing, too. And 3) after watching The Umbrellas of Cherbourg together you looked down upon Geneviève for doing what she did, but after thinking about it you said that you probably would have done the same thing. Gee, how ironic.
Though I said that I did love you, the truth is that I'm still in love with you and I probably never will stop loving you. I want to believe the cliché that "you never forget your first love" applies to you, but I know it doesn't. I want to believe that you still think about me and find yourself checking on me, like reading this blog, but I know you don't (nor will you ever make an effort to read this blog again). I don't think you'll ever really know how much I miss you, or how hard things have been for me the last year. But that's the point I'm trying to get to: you had me so convinced at thinking that you really cared about me that even though I know now that you never really did I still think that you still do care about me. So go ahead and call me bitter and ignorant, even harsh, I don't mind. While you live the life someone else wanted you to live, I'm still busy picking up the pieces that are left of me, while I'm still wondering, waiting to see, if I will ever hear from you or see you again. This is my purgatory, and it is surrounded by images and memories of you. It is inescapable and I will never try to leave, because I will always be waiting for someone who will never come.
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