I’m not jealous. I know that you’re too egotistical to understand that, but I’m not jealous. I’m hurt. You told me every night that I was everything, that you loved me, that you’d give anything to make me happy. Every night, we’d talk until we were struggling to keep our eyes open, but neither of us wanted to hang up because we liked the sound of each other’s voice. You held my hand and defended me and told your friends that I was different. You told me I was beautiful and I was the best thing that ever happened to you. And I tried. I fucking tried. I may not have given you all of me, but I gave you as much as I could. I gave you more than I’ve given anybody, and that wasn’t enough for you. It was never enough for you. You always needed to take it a step further, push me a bit more, let your hand slide a bit farther down. I cried and told you I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t ready. That’s when you gave me an ultimatum. I told you I loved you and begged you to understand why I couldn’t. And you left. You stormed out of my house and into your car. At school, you walked by me with another girl’s arm weaved with yours. You looked at me and I could tell the only thing you wanted for me was pain. Not even a day. Hours, fucking hours, after the months I gave you, you had replaced me. You had other girls in the front seat of your car and you told other girls that they were the best thing to ever happen to you. For as much as you claimed to love me, you sure got over me quickly. And that’s fine. The thing that hurt me, the thing that stung, was what you told everyone. You told your friends and my friends that we broke up because I was clingy and needy. You told them that I was bitchy and selfish. A day after. A day after we were lying on my floor watching TV. A day after I kissed you with everything I had. A day after, and I’m sitting here writing a cliche-ass letter that you’ll never see, because I don’t want you to know that you can hurt me as much as you have. A day after. 

I’m not jealous. I’m hurt.

4:23 pm  •  19 January 2011  •  3 notes