I’m leaving.

I’m turning my back on everything we’ve had, if there ever was such a thing, and walking away.

Yes, I’m walking away. Not because I’m no longer willing to fight for you. But this thing we have, I don’t know what this is, has been reduced to a game I can’t seem to win, and probably never will.  I’m tired of tugging on my end while you sit there doing nothing to meet me halfway. I’m tired of fighting for a love that may or may not be there at all.

I tell you, this isn’t one of those times when I temporarily disappear in the hopes that you’ll notice my absence. This is not me simply not looking your way. I’m turning my back on you and walking away; and I’m not going back, ever.

You’ve lost me, the one who loved you more than anything, the one who held on for all these years. I feel sorry for you because you’ll never find anyone who loves you, cares for you, half as much as I do — trust me on that.

You’ve lost me and I’m never coming back. Not even when you come begging, when it finally dawns on you how much perfect we could’ve been, and how much I’ve been good to you. This time, I mean it — and for that, I truly feel sorry for you.

This is it, the last I’ll ever really look at you. I’m moving on to a world where you are but a vague yet beautiful memory; and in your place, there’s gonna be somebody else.

And I’ll be happy. Without you.


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