Perhaps you think the title of this article is a little too raw, and maybe it is, I don’t really know. What I will say however is that it might be best to read it after 9pm if you’re 16 or older. Why? Because the stuff I need to say is shrouded with hate. It’s not directed at you. It’s me that I hate tonight.

I don’t hate myself per se, I hate all of the “me’s” I’ve spent time with over the past 6 months. No, I am not bipolar (as far as I know). Love can sometimes do that to a person, sometimes. It pushes us outside of our comfort zone, away from everything that’s familiar, away from everything we thought we could control, and that’s when we become a lesser version of ourselves. Please know that I’m not pointing a finger at you when I say “us” or “we”, it’s just that I’d like to believe I’m not alone in this. Alright? Just bear with me for a moment. This won’t take long.

Source : Stocksnap

You’ve probably figured out, given my earlier reference to love, that this “story” involves a man. And you’d be right except that I should mention that he’s special for all of the right reasons. Mind you, I would never have told him that when we were together. I was afraid that if I told him how special he is, he’d see how ordinary I am. He seemed to think I was special and he wasn’t afraid to show it, through his gestures, the words he said, the way he looked at me, and the way he spoke of the future. He was unafraid. I think a part of me was jealous of his self-confidence. So I started pulling back. I braked, I tensed, I asked boring questions, and I basically ruined the moment.

He knew that I was holding back. He wasn’t stupid; I think I mentioned that earlier. He didn’t press the issue. He knew I’d never be as optimistic or confident as him. He tried to adapt, he tried far more than anyone ever had. It gave me some measure of hope but it didn’t last long and it wasn’t enough. That’s not to say that I didn’t try; I aim for self-improvement, not self-destruction. But a leopard can’t change its spots.

Source : Stocksnap

I woke up one morning with a feeling that our days were numbered, and say what you will, a woman’s intuition doesn’t lie. But I just kept telling myself, over and over again, that we loved each other and nothing else mattered. Even if we were bickering more often, and I was even more rigid than before, and his gaze lingered less and less upon me, and after everything we’d been through, we couldn’t just give up. A week later, he walked out the front door and never came back.

And you know what the worst part of all this is? I knew. I mean, I knew that I was practically pushing him out the door and he had plenty of good reasons to leave. Now we both know (you and I) that I was insufferable. The thing is, he loved me just as I was, right from the start. And then one day he stopped loving me. He didn’t actually explain any of this to me, I just figured it out on my own. And I’m going to learn from it, I swear. It’s not a matter of self-pity. If you see yourself in any of this, please, don’t make the same mistake I made… don’t wait until it’s too late to change. Let your guard down; let him see how much he means to you. You’ll be glad you did.


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