orfinn03

Да вы уже все заебали

orfinn03

​I wish I could hate you. I've tried. God knows I've tried. I've sat in the dark late at night, replaying every cold word you said, every time you ignored me, every promise you broke without breaking a sweat, trying to force myself to feel disgust. I've tried to build a wall of anger inside my chest, hoping that if I hated you enough, the pain would finally stop; hoping that if I could just view you as a monster, I could finally move on with my life and never look back. But I can't. And that is the most infuriating, exhausting part of this whole nightmare.
          ​I hate that even after everything you did, even after the way you walked away like I was nothing, some part of my brain still makes excuses for you. I still catch myself remembering the way you laughed, the moments you made me feel safe, or the soft parts of your personality that you only showed when no one else was looking. My brain refuses to let me despise you, even when you gave me every single reason in the world to do so.
          ​Hating you would be so much easier than what I'm doing right now. If I hated you, I could just throw away everything you gave me and feel a sense of relief. If I hated you, I could hear your name mentioned by mutual friends and roll my eyes instead of feeling that sickening drop in my stomach. If I hated you, I could laugh at the thought of you missing me, instead of sitting there quietly hoping that you do.
          ​Anger is clean. Anger is protective. Anger gives you an enemy to focus on so you don't have to look at your own broken pieces. But soft feelings are messy. Carrying empathy for someone who destroyed your peace feels like a sickness. It makes you feel weak. It makes you feel like an idiot for holding on to compassion for someone who didn't even have the decency to treat you like a human being when it mattered.

orfinn03

​I have to let you be the bad guy in my story. I have to stop rewriting your actions to make them easier to digest. If you were selfish, then you were selfish. If you were cold, then you were cold. I don't need to brand you as the evil monster, but I do need to stop treating you like a victim of your own choices. You made your decisions. You chose distance, you chose silence, you chose a life without me in it.
            ​And the most respectful thing I can do for myself now is to stop trying to edit your choices to fit my hopes. I don't hate you. I don't think I ever will. My heart just isn't built to hold that kind of poison, no matter how much reason you gave me to drink it. But I'm done saving a seat for you. I'm done using my empathy as an excuse to let you occupy space in my present when you actively chose to abandon our future.
            ​So keep your silence. Keep your unbothered life. I'm relinquishing the need to understand why you did what you did. I'm dropping the weight of trying to hate you, and I'm dropping the weight of trying to forgive you, too. I'm just leaving you behind—as a lesson I paid too much for, a story that ran out of pages, and a person who was given everything I had and still couldn't see what it was worth.
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orfinn03

Every time I get angry, a quiet voice in my head reminds me of a sweet moment we had or a vulnerable story you told me, and the anger just deflates into sadness.
            ​I'm tired of protecting your image in a mind that you destroyed. I'm tired of giving you the benefit of the doubt when you gave me nothing but doubt itself. I'm tired of being the mature one, the understanding one, the one who takes the high road while my own mental health lies in ruins on the side of the street. I don't want to understand you anymore. I don't want to analyze your trauma. I don't want to make sense of your emotional limitations. I just want the peace that comes with indifference. I want to reach a point where your memory carries the exact same emotional weight as a stranger on the street.
            ​I've come to realize that hating you isn't actually the goal anyway. Hating you would still mean you own a piece of my mind. Hating you would still mean I'm spending my energy on you, feeding you my focus, letting you control my mood from a distance. Hate is just love that turned sour. It's still passion. It's still investment. It's still tethering my heart to yours. I don't need to hate you to heal. I just need to stop holding on to you.
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orfinn03

@orfinn03 You get to move on without a heavy chest, unbothered while I sit trying to forgive someone who never even asked for an apology. You never sat in your car trying to understand my pain. You never lay awake wondering if you broke my heart too deeply. You just closed the door, wiped your hands, and went on with your life—leaving me trapped in a room built out of your unfinished business.
            ​It's an embarrassing asymmetry. I'm over here trying to protect your ghost in my memory, while you've already buried me in yours. I think the real reason I wish I could hate you is because hating you would mean I've finally accepted that you never cared. As long as I keep finding reasons to forgive you, as long as I keep viewing you as a complex, wounded person who just makes mistakes, I get to hold on to the delusion that what we had was real. I get to tell myself you didn't mean to hurt me, you just didn't know how to handle something good. Because admitting that you simply didn't care is a pill I can barely swallow. Admitting that you were just bored, or selfish, or using me until something better came along—that cuts deeper than any insult you could ever throw at me. It means I built an entire world out of a connection that was entirely fabricated by my own hope. It means I gave my heart to someone who viewed it as nothing more than a temporary distraction. So my brain clings to the soft feelings. It clings to the idea that you're just misunderstood, because the alternative—that I mean absolutely nothing to you—is too humiliating to face. Carrying grace for someone who hurt you is exhausting. It drains your battery until you're running on fumes. Every time I try to talk about what you did, I catch myself softening the story so you don't sound like the bad guy.
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orfinn03

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​I don't think you ever loved me. I think you just loved the fact that I am dumb. I think you loved the fact that I would wait for you. I think you loved the fact that I would always make excuses for you.  
          ​I don't think you loved me as a person. I think you just loved how stupid I get for you. I think you loved how no matter what you did, I still didn't leave.  
          ​I think you loved that you could hurt me and I would still find some way to stay close to you. I think you loved that even after you crossed lines with me, I was still the same idiot trying to hold on to you.  
          ​I think you loved that I never really made you feel like you had to be scared of losing me. I think you loved that I would be hurt and still come back, like the hurt wasn't enough to make me stop wanting you.  
          ​I think you loved that I could tell myself I was done with you and still not actually leave. I think you loved that I kept giving you another chance when you had already shown me what you would do with the last one.  
          ​I think you loved that I never made your actions final. I always found some way to stay attached to you. I think you loved that I could be treated in ways that should have made me walk away, and still have feelings for you after I walked away.  
          ​I think you loved that I was so fucking attached to you that leaving you felt harder than staying hurt by you. I think you loved knowing I would always come back to the same person who kept giving me reasons to leave. I think you loved that I never became someone who could actually let you go.

orfinn03

Maybe in another universe, we’re a happy couple living life the best way possible—drinking whiskey late at night, having fun, living comfortably, and going on late-night drives with your favorite music playing while you rest your legs on my lap and yap about whatever’s on your mind. Waking up to your kisses in the morning... and so many other things. I just made all of that up in my head. Maybe that’s what could have happened if you weren't who you were, if I wasn't an unemployed guy back then, and if I looked better at the time... I don't know.
          ​I’m not mad. I’m actually doing great right now. I’ve lost 8 kilos since the last time we met, and everything is moving according to plan. I’m talking to a new girl—she’s just a friend, but we flirt playfully every now and then. But whatever.
          ​I’m still sticking to my exact daily routine every single day. I haven't broken my discipline for 35 days straight, and I’m proud of myself for that.
          ​Maybe the new version of me and the old version of her would have worked out, but right now, I hate her with all my heart.
          ​I wasn't a good person back then either, but that's in the past. Now? I’ve built enough pride in myself to know I’m completely out of her league.
          ​I’m happy being on my own—so please don't disturb my peace, even if a part of me ever reaches out to yours.

orfinn03

this message may be offensive 
My jealousy isn't really there anymore. In the past, whenever I saw an ex or a failed talking stage happy with someone else, I’d get jealous as fuck—like I was going to explode from pure rage. But now? I watch them and feel absolutely nothing. I’m so locked into myself now that I just don't give a fuck about anything else. I love who I am, who I’m becoming, and the work I’m putting in every day.
          ​I used to be the kind of person who cut people off completely, only to rethink it a week later like, 'Why did I even cut them off? I can keep them around—maybe they’ll be useful for something later.' So I changed my approach. Instead of cutting people out when I’m mad, I keep them around, but I shift my mindset and my intentions regarding them. It works so much better than just burning bridges.
          ​Today was my first rest day in a long time, and it felt amazing. The same daily grind completely drains my energy, so taking a step back to fully recover—playing games, reading a book, and still getting my 15,000 steps in—has me feeling refreshed.
          ​Life feels incredible when I’m focusing purely on myself instead of trying to fix someone else's ill-mannered, ungrateful daughter. Only God knows how good this freedom feels.
          ​I’m going to ascend, and then I’ll just watch the rest of the world from above.