I’m writing this from my desk at the office. Today, we returned after a
period of remote work. I have mixed feelings about everything. I don’t
know how to feel about her.
I’ve made some sudden changes that I think have slowly started to pull
me out of this. One of them was stopping my antidepressants—cold turkey.
No gradual tapering of doses. I did it to force myself to act. I hate
feeling stuck, dragging myself through each day. Living the bare
minimum. I didn’t come this far to live like a zombie. So I stopped
them.
The first week was hell, at best. The withdrawal symptoms were intense
and frustrating, but most of them have passed. I felt sick, nauseous,
and suicidal. One night, I drove like a maniac for four hours,
aimlessly. I was full of rage at my ex. The amount of pain one person
can cause is almost laughable sometimes.
But after that week, things started to change. I began to feel stronger.
One night, I literally woke up feeling relieved of her. I felt like I
didn’t care about her existence anymore. That she is the one who lost.
I’m the one who could’ve added to her life. I’m the one who could’ve
given her the world. I’m the one who could’ve supported her.
This isn’t me bragging—it’s just the truth. I don’t have much to lose. I
don’t have many people in my life. She would’ve been my whole world. And
it’s sad that her greed and selfishness brought us to this point.
People keep talking about rights. Yes, you have the right to decide a
relationship isn't working. You have the right to choose someone else.
But relationships aren’t built on rights. They’re built on trust, and on
understanding just how vulnerable the other person can be with you.
They’re built on prioritizing someone’s well-being over your own rights.
They’re built on sitting with conflicting emotions—the selfish,
pleasurable ones that make you feel good, and the painful, boring, heavy
ones that, if you choose to feel them, relieve someone else’s
suffering.
Betrayal is when the person you trusted chooses to make you suffer, even
when they could end it. When they could give you peace but instead
choose to chase pleasure with some stranger they don’t even care
about.
I think I’m close to getting you out of my heart. I probably won’t
forget you, but my brain has started to let your memories fade. You
suddenly feel very distant—like someone I barely knew. You always feared
my memory. You always worried I’d forget us. But you didn’t care when
you left me to suffer for a whole year.
I used to close my eyes and try to remember you, just to feel some
warmth. To see you in a good light. But I don’t do that anymore. I gave
you more than enough time to fix things. You didn’t bother. I’m better
without you.
I was so weak this past year. I almost lost everything I worked for. I
almost ended my life. And you didn’t lift a finger. That’s when I saw
your true colors—not the version you used to show me.
I will forget you. And you will regret it.
I deleted everything—every photo, every message. I threw away every gift
you gave me: the handmade notebook, the Swiss knife, the stone, the bird
keychain. Everything. Nothing remains. My revenge will be building
myself back up and going further than I ever did during all those years.
You’ll see where I get, and you’ll regret every moment.
You’re not my favorite person anymore. Your eyes are not my destination
anymore. You’re slowly becoming nothing to me. And honestly, that makes
me sad. I didn’t want to lose you from my heart. I loved you—and I still
do. But you’re not my person anymore.