It’s been almost a year now and I still hate you for leaving me.
But I also hate you for even finding me to begin with, and for staying with me for as long as you did.
What the fuck? I ask myself. Why did you have to be the one to help me find myself?
But that was probably all you were meant to be in my life:
Maybe the changes you prompted in me helped me realize that you were bad for me.
That and the constant silent treatment.
It took a lot of repetition on your part, but eventually I realized you treated me like crap more often than you didn’t.
And now I know that I don’t want you back.
Now I can see that what I truly wanted was what I thought you were…
I think you were always destined to end up being my Loserman.