it’s been nearly four years, and i still think of you every now and then. i remember the good times. our first meeting, our first date, our first kiss. i remember us standing in the kitchen of your student flat, making paella and singing at the top of our lungs to stupid songs we made up about my cat. i remember us moving into our first place together, and the little party we threw to celebrate where you charmed all of my colleagues into thinking i was the luckiest girl alive for having you. i remember the passion, the euphoria, the dreams. but then i remember the other person in our relationship. alcohol.
she kissed your lips far more convincingly than i ever could. she soothed you, gave you a sense of purpose. she elated you when you were down, a feat i was never able to achieve. but she tricked you. she told you i was out to hurt you when i begged for connection, for reciprocation, for a relationship of equals. and you believed her, because she was always far too good to let go.
i know you think i’m heartless for leaving without saying goodbye. maybe i am. but i couldn’t bear to give you the ultimatum - me or her? we both know which one of us you’d have chosen, and i wasn’t prepared to hear her name leave your mouth.
it’s possible that you’ve changed since i left, that you’ve learned from our three harrowing years of misalignment. i heard from a mutual friend that you’ve broken up with her now, that you gave her up for your new girlfriend. part of me is happy for you. most of me is heartbroken that i wasn’t ever good enough to even consider letting her go. i guess your new girlfriend is better at kissing you, better at soothing you, better at giving you a purpose. i suppose that’s a good thing.
despite everything, i think i’d do it all again if i was given the chance. i’ll never be able to hate you. i just hate her for ruining you. for ruining us. for ruining me.
