you could’ve told me.

I deleted you from my life like I said I would. I deleted you from my life as you agreed I should. I deleted you from my life but you didn’t stay away. 

I don’t know what you meant by texting me that picture today. I don’t know what you meant by telling me, flashback. Are you trying to rub salt into the wound? A hand-written note with your name saying “nothing worth having is ever easy”. 

I don’t know what you meant by it, and I don’t want to know. 

I don’t want to figure you out anymore. I’m tired, and I’m done, and I’ll like you to stop. Please. If you’re out there, reading this. I wish you all the best, and I wish you all the luck in the world, and I hope you’re fine, but I can’t talk to you anymore. I can’t keep doing this because this isn’t healthy. 

After we broke up, each of us kept claiming to no longer contact each other. This time, it’s for real. I mean it. I can’t talk to you anymore because I deserve better. You deserve better. She deserves better. I deserve to not be dragged back into the hurricane of emotions that you always seem to inspire in me. She deserves to have a boyfriend who has let go of his past, the way you claim you have. Over and over again when I still gave you chances. 

You no longer have the right to bombard me with emotionally charges messages such as these designed to pull me back into the past that I’ve been trying my hardest to let go of, just as I no longer have the right to write you with messages designed to make you feel guilty. 

We were both to blame after our break up. In another universe, maybe you would’ve fought for me the way I wanted you to and we might’ve still been together. But there are a million what ifs and maybes floating out there, and that’s what I’ve realized is left between us. That’s all there is left. The million what ifs and occasional flashbacks.

You wrote me immediately after I departed Vancouver, “it was something wasn’t it?” or something along those lines. And it was beautiful then, as is the sentiment now. It’s beautiful how Time erodes the things that we once thought we wouldn’t forget. It’s beautiful when someone chooses to move on instead of holding on. 

I’ll admit, it’s hard, as all things are when you’re emotionally invested. But I loved you and you broke me. I’m not blaming you anymore. I’m not blaming her. I’m not blaming anyone anymore. It’s just what it is. 

Nothing worth having is ever easy. 

Yea. I know. But what I’ve learnt is that you have to know when to say enough. And I’ve said enough. So please, stop. It’s too late, and the flashbacks, the emotions, the memories… In this moment, in this healing period, I can’t/don’t want to hear from you. 

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