We he stops asking how you are. That’s when you leave.
So, you leave. You pack everything up really tight, because you’ve left before.
You left the boy with the long arms and the fluffy hair in the 7th grade when it was time the gymnasium lights came on, ‘I can’t be your girlfriend”.
You left you were 19 when you saw him kissing another girl across campus and you just never responded to another text he sent.
You left when you were 21 and you realized that his was not a love of passion, nor respect, but one that was convenient, safe and with just enough distance he could live a life separate from you.
You left when you were 23 because you realized that you weren’t supposed to be in his life like that, he wanted a wife and you wanted to be more than that.
You left when you were 24 because you knew no matter who he was when you were alone, that type of disregard and halfheartedness in public wasn’t for you.
You left when you were 26 because you we’re a balm, or medicine for his manic depression and knowing that you can’t fix someone by loving them.
You left now at 28 because what else was there to do it’s been a week and he’s not the man you first met. He’s not. And so, you accept it. Sure, you could hem and haw. You could get angry, you could get sad. But really, you just feel a vast sense of disappointment and perseverance in yourself, that you believed that maybe, just maybe this one was different but life is life and what is it without growth. So, when it feels right you will delete his number, unfollow him. Let him slip out of your life just as he slipped in.
When you leave, it’s like moving. If you do it right the first time, package everything up you care about, leave/donate/sell what you don’t, it becomes easier over time. You know your worth. You know your value, so you take that, put it where it belongs and it all fits together like a good game of Tetris, and then your gone.
