You’re Allowed To Not Want Me

There’s a strong possibility that you were never that keen on me in the first place. You never had any intention to have a relationship with me. You were just being polite as I was so into you. You responded to my requests. You went along with my persistent interest. You took what was given to you for free. But I was never the magic to you. I was never the choice you would make when it was inconvenient. I was never the one you thought of lying awake at night. I was never the text that made your heart jump with joy. I was never the woman you would ask to be there when things got difficult. I was never the woman you asked to stay. My effort was irrelevant. 

If that was the case, then I can accept it. It hurts but I can accept that not everyone chooses me and I’m not for everyone. I can accept that you will never see my value and you will never want me the same. I can accept that you are pursuing other women and you will one day end up with one of them. I can accept that even though right now it’s not easy. Everything seems to remind me of you and how nice it was to have something to hope for. I’ve just only learned to stop bothering you with my texts; I have yet to master removing you from my thoughts especially when listening to cheesy indie love songs. It still makes my heart ache sometimes to think you might be going out of your way for some indifferent woman all the while treating me with neutrality, making me believe being reserved was just the way you are.

But there’s also a possibility that being reserved was really the way you are and I have ruined my chance with you by being too forward, too selfish. I wasn’t patient enough. I wasn’t understanding enough. I was pushy. I rushed you. I couldn’t give you the space you needed when you did. It was my fault. It was my tactless approach. It was me not doing enough, not being enough for you. I could’ve just been moving slowly at your pace and adding positivity to your days. But it was always about me, me, me and what I was getting out of us. I couldn’t put myself into your position and do what was best for you. I couldn’t just forget about myself for a little and be there for you without demanding anything back. I couldn’t just love you like a grown-up, as a human to human, like I claimed I could. Maybe I just didn’t deserve you.   

I don’t know. I was too into you to see through you. I was too emotional to be rational about this situation. I know, even right now, if you ever read this, you would think, wow, didn’t know she was thinking about all this shit, because you have too much to deal with and I don’t make any list of yours. I know I’m no priority to you. I know I’m practically a stranger and all these emotions and thoughts are too much. But see, sometimes in life, we meet people, and we care for them for reasons beyond our own logical understanding. It just happens. And I’m not going to explain or apologise for it. I’m a complex human. I make mistakes. I do crazy things. I fall for men who don’t understand my bloated heart. It’s okay. Better than nothing.

Well, I can dissect the past all I want but at the end of the day, I only have reality to make of. We’re here now. I’m here without you now. What can I say? I don’t know the real reasons for this outcome. I just know that I have no way back. I can’t continue that old lonely path on my own — staring at the silent phone waiting for a text back, forcing get-togethers in vain, pouring my heart out with every drop of Whiskey while dying inside from the neutrality and indifference you gave me. The truth is, I love myself now. I can’t leave that out of any equation. I can’t keep touching the hot kettle knowing I would get burnt again and again. I can’t let myself be a foolish woman any longer because I know I’m smarter than this.

That said, I hate to think I’m a quitter, that it was me who gave up on you too quickly. But now I realise that sometimes it’s okay to quit and it wasn’t actually you I gave up on — I gave up on pursuing the idea of us by myself. I believe it’s the right thing to do. We both deserve a mature partner and a reciprocal love we hold on tightly with both our hands. You might think I’m young but I’m too old for unrequited love, for chasing men who are too smart and experienced to still be figuring their heart out — I don’t buy this. I want a man who wants me, chooses me and comes to me even when it’s tough. I want a man who’s excited about me. I want a man who shows up. I want a man who doesn’t give me excuses. Don’t worry — I know you’re all of those wonderful things, but just not for me, not right now. 

I understand. You don’t want to hurt me. You don’t want to say difficult things. And it’s okay. You’re allowed to not want me. I like you enough to not hate you for that. Well, admittedly, I did try to hate you to get over you but I couldn’t. At this point, I already think too well of you. I think too much for you like it’s my own business but it’s not, and it’s driving me crazy. I don’t bloody know what to do about you. Ocean eyes just made me teary a little because I thought of yours I was gazing into. So really, all this is just me laying out my heart and trying to feel a bit better right now. To be compassionate towards myself. To leave you alone. To move on. To be a better person for both of us…

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