The reason he’s such a letdown is that he was meant to be a safer option. Because it is safer when someone likes you and approaches you. We end up preferring those who are already interested in us rather than going after someone we want. That’s what happened when you’ve been shot down so many times. And it appears to be a good thing until it isn’t, since for some, these chases are like conquests designed to boost their ego. For them, girls aren’t just girls; they’re trophies and prizes to be shown in their score cards among their animal friends. So, in this quest, they promise the world – anything for the win – the prize that is you. And in the end they leave you, nothing but compromised. After endless lies of “I’m different” and “oh baby, I would never do that to you”, fucking lies my humble heart couldn’t help but get smitten by. 

I know I sound bitter, but it’s only day 3, I think I’m allowed that.

You gave me everything but the things you promised – from trust issues, dead flowers, after pills to haunting memories.

There should be a new word for broken because broken isn’t cutting it anymore. I feel used and stripped down to my lowest. I never learn. I never play the game, so naturally, I never win too. I’ve always hated the idea of having to play these psychological manipulative games they just feel unnatural to me, but maybe that is the only way to look out for yourself. Because when you give it to them on a silver platter, all they do is take you for granted, they don’t even value you or cherish you. You’re less than zero. All I’ve ever wanted was for someone to see me for who I really am, and still love me either way.

I know I’ll continue to wake up day after day, do what I have to do, even when I’m falling into pieces with every breath. That’s just life. But god, how I wish for this to go away now.

I know this revolves around one singular break-up, where one man who just wasn’t man enough couldn’t be bothered to look me in the eye and be honest with me. He ended up playing with the very last piece of me that lived. I bet he sleeps okay, I bet he doesn’t dread waking up. I bet the lies told don’t really haunt him. I bet he’s out there fooling someone else too. I bet he can still go on and about without his emotions pulling him apart. I bet he never meant it when he said he loved me. That’s such a hard pill to swallow, to think everything you thought and believed about a person was a complete lie, scam, fraud.

To quote Olivia, “You betrayed me, and I know that you’ll never feel sorry
for the way I hurt”, yeah. Bet you’re having the last laugh, aren’t you?

This was the coldest love I’d ever known. This was also the most deceiving.

Just when I could outline your face with eyes closed, you left my hands without an object. Traces of a love that could never be.

Stories of lust, lies, betrayal and mistrust.

Tip for the next guy who sees me enjoying by myself on a dance floor – whatever you do just don’t text me. I mean please just save me from your bullshit and leave my happiness alone.

When they seek you and charm you – you who could never trust someone again, you who couldn’t believe in good things because good things never last – you tell them your fears, you tell them everything, and they still pursue you and drink from you until you’re empty; only to rob you off the last bit of life you have.

After meeting him for the first time, I recall sending him this text. He was well aware of my distress. Yes, I was frightened. Because he was so charming and breathtakingly cute, my heart was in peril. I couldn’t believe he really liked me as much as he kept claiming. It was surreal. I just had a feeling that I’d not survive this if it didn’t work out. I was so hesitant after the last quarter of 2021, I’d been through so much crap that I’d had enough. But he asked to believe him, dream with him, and hope with him. He promised he would never abandon me and that he loved me.

Despite my skepticism, I didn’t want to spoil a good thing because I was scared it wouldn’t work out when everything had gone so well up to that point. So I closed my eyes and leapt, trusting that he’d catch me. Spoiler: he didn’t. My skin peeled and bled through the holes he punched as he dropped me to the ground through what felt like bloody thorns.

He leaves me nine days after we first met, bloody nine days. He’d asked me to be his girlfriend six days after and the entirety of the whole things has just been 17 days. This was the modern-day equivalent of “How to Lose a Guy in 17 Days,” but without a happy ending. The pain I felt when he told me he couldn’t be with me anymore was unbearable. I begged him to stay and not break my heart this way. He walked away, he’d made up his mind. And now I struggle to stay alive – from his sick need to give love then take it all away. So in spite of it all, after all the explanations and everything, this too ends in goodbye. Bless my heart.

I know it seems ridiculous that something so fleeting can have such an impact on me. But it does, which is just the story of struggling with BPD.

I will let you go, I promise that. 
I just need a minute, just one more minute to breathe in what will always be the last of us.

Losing you could’ve killed me.
Yet, I lost you. And lived anyway. 

They say love happens only once. 
Yet I fall, every single time I see you. 

And it was then I realized how I couldn’t carry you around, not with me or even in my purse.

I had to let you go, and mean it this time. 

So I tore up your name, and dropped it like the mistake that you were.