two months, it took you. two months after you broke my heart, you began something with someone else.

but was it really two months, or did you know her before that? you were talking when we were still together, probably, on the nights you’d come home late from “meetings” and would hardly talk to me in the presence of our own home that we LIVED IN, TOGETHER—always looking at your phone, it always vibrating on the table. was it her? i bet it was.

i hope, one day, that you realize just how cruel you were to me. how cruel you still are. how she is, quite possibly, just a rebound. how horribly you treated me, how awful the things you said to me were, how your little messages here and there, being so weirdly casual and friendly, didn’t hit me in the ways you’d hoped they would.

i hope you realize how much you lost when you let me go. i hope you realize the care i gave, the love i shared, the things i did and how much i sacrificed for you. how much hell i went through for you to better myself for you, and for us. the humiliation i faced in therapy twice a week to get better—so we could get better, and grow—together. i hope you know that i see your photos with her now, but i’ve deleted every single one with you. i hope you know that while i learned a lot from dating you, i seemingly wasted three years of my life on a boy who shows me, time and time again, how little care you had for the relationship that we “built together”.

hope you have a great time with her. did you tell her that the apartment you bring her back to was once my home? i slept in the bed with you that she’s sleeping in now? how half of the shit in there are things that i bought, things we made memories with? does she know we only broke up in january? or have you hidden that from her, too?

get the fuck off of your high horse, you absolute piece of shit. you’re no man. you’re a scared, little boy who wants to fuck around and not give a woman the things she deserves.

you will never, ever hurt me again. go fuck yourself into oblivion. i am done with you and your antics and your stupid little messages. i look back at our memories and cringe in pain—i do not smile with fondness. fuck you, fuck your thoughts, fuck everything you said to me when you were in the middle of breaking my heart, and have a great fucking time when karma, undoubtedly, beats you on your ass one day and says, “knock knock, darling. guess who?”