I think it's over:
I’ve been dating my boyfriend for about 10 months now. We’ve been fighting consistently, and I finally broke down and asked for space so I could process my feelings and reevaluate the relationship. This is what came out on the first night we stopped talking. I’m really sad because I think this might be the end of our chapter. I plan to take a few more days to truly reflect on everything, then I’ll talk to him. Should I share this with him during the breakup conversation? Also, what do you think of the piece itself? Be honest!
05/16
I think it's over:
I think we're over, and I am deeply sad. Please believe me when I say this, because while I’ve said this exact phrase a thousand times, I promise: this is the last.
I will quietly pack my bags and go. For this time, there’s no need for a blast.
I guess it’s time to grieve quietly, as I learn this lesson for the millionth time: not everything is built to last.
I think it’s over because I can no longer respect or love myself if I stay in this relationship and wear a mask.
After all, this was, and continues to be, built on me begging to be cared for, thought of, considered, or simply asked.
A simple “How was your day?”, “Are you okay?”, “How can I help?” would’ve sufficed. That alone would’ve completed the task.
All this time, I’ve been shouting with all my might: please love me the way I ache to be loved.
Honestly, forget love, I would’ve settled for so much less. In fact, I did But even then I was told, ‘you expect too much, my beloved.’
And believe you me, I’m not even blaming you for it. You’re a good guy. You tried your best.
I’m overreacting. I’m difficult to deal with. I’m hard to please, just full of it.
I understand. It’s all my fault. It always has. I mean, from the get-go, I taught you I would put up with it.
That I would put in all the effort and build you a detailed map of my heart: how to love me, how to treat me right, and when you fell short, I would make up for it.
That I would forgive you even before you apologize. In fact, I’d try to convince you. And when all else fails, I would even beg you for it.
That I am desperate, pathetic even, when I fall in love. And I’m done for it.
I can no longer remain, because this can’t be love, for I am constantly in pain. This is self-abuse. This isn’t love. This is disdain.
I refuse because I finally see it for what it is. I’m finally done. And I’m going to make a run for it.