pain

A letter to my stalker: when the game is over

Double Exposure by  Horațiu Lazăr

Double Exposure by Horațiu Lazăr

If only I could respond to your confession with proofs and facts and whatever happened back then, but I won’t. Things happened. We were just two kids who wanted to accept and explore our fetishes. We made mistakes, we hurt each other, we felt sorry and guilt that we regretted it most of the times, we wished everything was like before but nothing lasts forever, after all. I guess, that’s how break-ups work. Things happened, again. Nothing changed. That vicious circle all over again. Maybe I should have, would have, could have- I don’t know what tense fits better – left you before. I didn’t, though. They say love is blind. I disagree. The thing with us was that I knew exactly what you were, what we were able to do. It’s just that I thought we could do better. Silly me!

Let’s get something clear. I wasn’t your savior, your mother, your friend, some ex. I didn’t want to be.  I’m not a healer. I never wanted to be and I never, ever, thought we could stand a chance together but I didn’t want to leave you. I was me, your psychotic girlfriend and it was fine by me. We were weird, or at least we wanted to believe so, we could understand each other, we could use and turn on each other so easily, we could manipulate each other. That was the thing. You loved my brains. I loved your insanity. Funny, isn’t it? But, you know, never trust what’s built on nothingness. I knew. I knew. I knew what we were doing the whole time. It was a game. Our game. Now it’s over. But why? Why? Why did it hurt so much?

 And then came betrayal. It doesn’t matter what happened. Things happened. But then again, betrayal is a choice. And I spent so long being bitter, but now I promise, I meant it when I said I forgive you for the things you made me do. It’s just that I never forgave you for the things you did.

And it was my decision to cut you off from my life. You can keep stalking me, I don’t mind. It means you’ve lost something. It means you miss something. Thing is, I don’t miss you. I feel flattered, though. So, thank you, for being there when I don’t need you at all. And I’m sorry for not keeping my promise ’cause I promised you, no matter what, I would keep in touch. I didn’t. I can’t. I don’t want to. I’m better off without you. It’s been two years (Happy breakup anniversary, idiot.) and somehow I grew stronger. I become more picky ’cause not everyone is going to stay forever and I’m in love with someone else now but that’s not the point. Everyone knows that it gets better and you can fall in love again and again and you can find love everywhere ’cause you have a heart and you shouldn’t be ashamed of it.

Someone once said “Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional.” Choice is yours, kiddo.

Submitted to ArtParasites by Cassiopeia Demise