I always thought that I was broken, that something's not right inside me. Life felt wrong. I felt like my existence was unjustified. Like I was meant to live a meaningless life and die in vain.
But then I met you.
I've been thinking about us. About what we had. What I felt about you. How ready I was to be yours. How ready I was to love you until the end of my time. How ready I was to adjust myself to be that guy you want.
But something was never quite right.
I couldn't love myself. I've been able to love you for you, your flaws, your beauty, your insanity, your mediocrity. But I couldn't love me.
That led us here. Because I couldn't get my shit together. Because I couldn't bring myself to love me. You got tired of it, and decided to leave.
Was it your fault? I wish I can say it is. I wish I can blame you and stay the way I was before, hating myself and never progress. Never change. I told myself and everyone around me about how much I loved you, but never about how I could never change myself despite of that love for you.
It was my fault. I wasn't enough. I was too late. Yeah sure, if we're playing on fair ground, you weren't perfect either. You refused to stay and love me. But this story isn't about you. Nobody wants to be around a fuck-up like me, not even I want to.
And maybe I can leave it to God; things were not meant to be and it's okay, she wasn't supposed to be mine anymore. But who am I kidding? It wasn't all destiny and predestination. It was partially me, and it always has been.
It took losing you to realize I wasn't such a fucked up person. Losing you made me realize that I am not a lost cause; that someone did love me, and wanted me to change, but I was just refusing to see the problem because I was too stupid and selfish. Too deluded in my idea of love that I refuse to see that you needed me too.
Sure, maybe we can accept that excuse you made. That you've been doubting us for a long time. But if it was up to me, I could've have done everything in my power to convince you anyway. But the truth is, I didn't. I was too busy being sad. Loathing myself in that void and expecting you to wait for me. I am not going to lie, a part of me resents you for leaving. For refusing to wait. But I know that's just stupid.
Maybe you're just as fucked up as I am. Maybe you've been talking to that guy for quite some time, confiding in him, developing some sense of connection with him while you were with me. And maybe I can say that's not entirely right to be done by anyone. But that's your test.
My test is with myself. And it has only just begun.
