You know who you are. The rest of the world might not, but you do.
For the last seven months, I have been going through what is known as the five stages of grief. Just so you know, it has been the most hellish experience. Of course the five stages of grief is something only average people experience. You made me feel like I was not so average. I guess that's the beauty of love. It turns out I am just your average, run of mill sixteen year old girl.
After it ended I didn't care. Get this. The very next day we were going to the boys' school and my friends and I were checking out all the boys. Every single one. Actually my friend had asked me, "How are you doing with the break up?". Want to know my response? "Who cares?". It wasn't real to me. It didn't happen. The last five months were like a carousel - too fast to identify what's actually going on.
That went on through the summer. I didn't see you on social media (obviously I blocked you - I wanted to control what you say of me), I didn't even think about you. It was amazing, no one brought you up, I didn't see your family everywhere, I didn't see you. At all.
I actually got into a relationship. Well it started out as one. Then he went to Wales for two weeks, came back and decided to tell me all the cheeky stories he had (apparently he's never heard of 'what happens in Wales, stays in Wales). I didn't think about it, I expected him to do that to me so it was no surprise when he told me. We continued the relationship. Okay so it wasn't a relationship at that point, we were 'talking', but the talking was static we were never going to get into a relationship and we had communicated that with each other so it was okay. Well apart from the fact that he did go off with several girls during that time. I didn't care. Our break up had made me care less, it wasn't like I was completely and utterly in love with this boy anyway, he was just entertainment (don't feel bad, it was the same for him).
Then you came back. In the worst way possible might I add. I mean seriously, did you have to text my best friend because you wanted to make 'new friends'. Please. She may be one layer of paper when it comes to thinking but I'm an encyclopedia and you know it. I saw right through it, so did the boy but at the point I suspected him of ending things with me.
Once again, I didn't care.
I texted you about it, you tried to act innocent but I was angry. I was so annoyed that I spent hours ranting and raving about how despicable you are. How dare you try to talk to my best friend, you were suppose to love me not her. I told her to stop texting you by the way. That's why you haven't gotten a reply to 'What breed are your dogs?'.
Then one November evening, I decided I wanted to talk to you. I wish you never texted my best friend. We talked half the night, not as much as we used to but we still talked. Then I remembered why I first loved you. We reminisced, we laughed, we were together. I was hopeful. Hope. Such a simple word filled with some much meaning. I thought after this we could go back to what we used to be. Happy and together. Of course not, in life we have advert length periods of happiness.
I texted you the next day, I didn't get a reply. Then a couple of days later i tried again. Same result. I was devastated. This time I felt the heartbreak, I felt exactly what I should have been feeling months ago, but it took me this long to realise what you meant to me. It's stupid but maybe you just didn't see the text. No, it says you read it. Maybe you went to reply but forgot. If only I was better when we were together or if I didn't break up with you because I wasn't getting enough attention from you.
In those days, I would give up anything just to have a hour with you. I would turn back time and give up all the friendships formed just to relive our hours together. Did you know that the third stage is bargining.
Finally you replied. It was our goodbye conversation. I made that decision. I said, 'I'm not worth it', you could have lost everything because of me and honestly I didn't want anyone to blame me for that. No matter how much I regret that or how much you tell me that I'm worth everything, I knew it was the right thing to do. Which I don't do much - usually I just do what I want or I just avoid it altogether. This time I didn't. Look how not so average I am. I skipped depression and went straight to acceptance.
After that I was a driveling mess of wet eyes and headaches. It was so annoying. The slightest thing sent me down the waterfall of regret. When I think back to the way I was I wonder why no one slapped me. It was so unlike me, I'm the girl that acts like she has no heart and has people geninunely questioning if God gave me emotions. I was so. I can't even describe it. It was horrible. I was swimming in the depression stage. Literally went diving into it and started doing laps or drowning depends on how you view depression.
I'm still angry. I'm still bargaining. I'm still depressed. But I'm starting to accept it. The last stage. Thank you for the time I had with you. I would do anything to forget it and I would do anything to relive it. Maybe I haven't fully gotten over you but I hope in due time I will.