Gustav Klimt, 1907 – 08.
…point out his / her flaws if you knew that person was not good for you.
I always miss the toxic ones the most.
You know, the ones who have left me, or the ones who had whispered sweet nothings but still kept me so perfectly within the gray areas.
Those ones. The ones I still can’t entirely breakaway or kill off within my dreams. The ones who seem to take my breath away just a little bit more than others.
There’s the rollercoaster, the excitement, the exhilaration, and at last but not least – the high. Oh, how was it possible that they could turn fairy tales into reality and make me the happiest I could ever be?
I could pathetically never really let them go, even as they’ve departed a while ago.
There’s a potential light at the end of the tunnel, and oh, darling, you bet I’m taking it slow.
After the supreme highs, and the defeating lows that I’ve been introduced to from the last “unintentional” perpetuator, I was once so very broken.
I was given and surrounded by love with the people closest to me, but to be frank, who cares? I thought of this man, perhaps…potentially, the love of my life.
He disappointed me, and then he chose to respond with nothing but silent acknowledgement when I decided to painfully open dialogue.
It really hurts, but I swear, I am okay.
I can’t live with a man who was more than willing to accept partiality; a person who was too ready to treat me like a consolation prize if he could not find anyone better. A person who couldn’t gather the courage, or probably, wasn’t just that into me.
All of the gestures meant nothing, if there were no movement on his side. I even told him. I’d never, ever do anything anymore – perhaps partially out of respect, and out of pride. Any progress would be out of him. He expected me to do every single part of the work.
I couldn’t, and can’t be the only one in action.
I wasn’t willing to wait to prove my worth to him, because I know my value.
Does it matter if I miss him? Probably not, he’s (maybe) forgotten about me, but it doesn’t hold any significance, as he hasn’t done anything for me.
And that’s it.
We’re all constantly provided with the opportunity to miss someone, but it’s a choice to act on that feeling.
So, dear boy (sorry, you haven’t earned the title of being an actual man, despite your age) – oh, how I miss you so, but what difference does it make? I know you look and observe intentionally from afar, but it will never make me, nor any other women in your life with a speck of self esteem and respect you associate yourself with in the future, approach you.
Does it hold significance?
Probably not in a while, so – with the help of time, I’ll get over the pangs of missing you. In fact, it has been so much better with the lack of contact.
I deserve someone better than you, someone who’d express their wants and desires without hesitation. Some who’d temporarily put his insecurity aside, because the prospect of losing me is a lot scarier than his personal perceived inadequacies.
So here I am, tonight, 2:31 am – partially missing and partially getting over you.
You’ve proven your unworthiness to me the moment you’ve looked at me as if I were like nothing when I’ve tried to give you everything.
There are people who care and miss me who are also showing it.
I don’t want people who can only hide behind a facade, or a source of social media to check up on me. It doesn’t make me think about you in a positive light. In reality, I feel offended to be still considered an option.
Maybe I am still some sort of last minute resort option to you. You do you, but I’ll never look back.
I’m so much better than that – either put in effort, or never dare to come back, as I won’t let you back.