I don’t even know where to start. There’s so much that happened in 2015, but all of that will unfortunately be tainted by the last two months. Isn’t that sad? All of the love and happiness that happened this year will be overshadowed by loss, soul- wrenching sadness, bitterness, and hatred. I wish that I could go back and relive 2015. I wish that I could go back and not love the way I loved. I wish that I could go back and stop myself from begging for him to come back…twice. I wish that I could forget this year happened, but alas I am stuck reliving the most happiest of memories even when I want to forget them forever. This is not some introspective essay on lost love and the end of a relationship. This is a big fuck you to the person that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Sadness is fading into a bitterness so strong that I’m pretty certain it will blossom into hatred. You know, I don’t hate a lot of people. I may not like them, may not want to be associated with them, but it takes a hell of a lot for me to hate someone. These last few months have helped foster that feeling. I do not deserve to be treated like this year’s trash; I do not deserve to be ignored, like you didn’t text, call, or want to see me every moment of every fucking day in 2015. I do not deserve to be broken up with over your fucking anniversary gift to me. The irony of it all. To be broken up with over Face-time, instead of face-to-face. If this is what you call “love”, you can keep it. Give it to some lowly creature who will be half the woman I am. I understand now. I wasn’t too much for you. Oh, no. I was too good for you. Too good for someone who would only slow me down, hold me back. Did you want me to fawn over you? Look at you and see sickness and disease, instead of just a man? Did you want me to stop my life for you so you could catch up? I’m so damn tired of feeling like I wasn’t good enough for you. I was more than good enough. I made you into who you are today. I fucking upgraded your ass, so in a few months when you realize that don’t come crawling back to me. Instead, feel like the shittiest human being in the world. Mark my words, you will feel this loss. You may think you are over it and bigger than it, but you will feel it to your very core. When you do I hope it makes you relive every fucking thing you ever said to me and then I hope you remember that morning when I stayed up all night so I wouldn’t sleep past nine, so that I wouldn’t miss you, so that we could talk like you promised me the night before. Trust you? That was a fucking joke because here I am not trusting you, not loving you, and hating you all in the same damn year. Thanks, Alex Cimo. Thank you very  much for this fucking lesson. It’s been so fucking real.


Author: Brittney

A girl who lives in books, loves in songs, wallows in self-doubt, demands equality, and consumes copious amounts of coffee, while fighting the patriarchy.

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