My ex contacted me recently on instagram and he’s so out of touch that he believes any contact, even if it’s to argue, indicates caring. Well, no. Not for me. And because I can’t say these things to him for fear he’ll latch onto me again, I say them here and now:
It was a year ago. Not nine months.
Any time I talked to you after the end was to make sure you didn’t harm yourself or others. Because you’re so damn weak and fragile I was afraid you’d shatter in my hands, or without the support of them beneath you.
So no. Things between us ended the moment you disrespected my family. The moment you made me feel ashamed of you. Your behavior was unacceptable. You come into my family’s home, are welcome by them, shown kindness and you respond with disrespect, irritation, anxiety, and rudeness. Fuck you.
Do you understand who I am? What I value? What source of love within me brings me peace? I believe in family. My values are so entrenched in it that the mere NOTION you did not understand that means you never knew me. In all that time, you didn’t have the mental capacity to grasp the things or ideas I hold dear. That is an indelible mark upon you.
You do not deserve to know my name.
Messaging me with the idea that I would EVER want to get coffee with you, ever want to DRIVE to meet you, put ENERGY into crossing paths beyond mere happenstance is BEWILDERING to me. The thought of your face enrages me.
Honestly, I wish you would’ve just cheated on me. Betrayed only me. But you did something worse in my eyes. You disrespected my identity, my heart, the founders of my existence.
I am so glad it’s over. I am THRILLED it is over. I am grateful for the valuable lessons I learned from our relationship and I know now the mistakes I will never make again. Beyond that, I do not wish you harm or ill will. In truth, I pity you. I wish you well. I wish you the best. I want you to be better, be a better human being, a better son, a better brother, a better friend, a better boyfriend to the next girl. THE NEXT GIRL. NOT ME. NEVER. EVER. EVER.
You must be joking. I’d rather die alone than spend a shared moment over coffee with you. If it came down to a choice between living my last days with a herd of cats or with you, listening to your drivel, I’d pick the cats a million times over. Call me a spinster! Call me whatever you want!
I would not share my air with you.
You fucking suck. Lose my number. Block me. Please. Get. Over. It.
Move the fuck on.