Is this the end? It's been almost 2 weeks since the last text, I have the whole past lined up now. It wasn't destiny, it was never destiny, it was never society, it was never the cause of others. This.. this that happened, it was between us, me and him. I assumed too fast, too many coincidences, too many references. I was too much me, he was too much him and it just worked out for a little while. Of course, I was never the best version of myself nor was he the best version of himself. I didn't deny, he didn't un-pretend, we stayed in shallow waters after the initial turbulence. It was exhausting, it was painful. But it's time to go our own way.
He wanted something more, he was living in the false expectations that he himself created, a perfect trap, a romance that was never 100% his and his lifestyle was fighting for that, he still didn't know, but I could see through him what he still hadn't realized. The manipulations, well-constructed phrases with a comfortable accent, I loved that, but I had one foot back. He taught me something he couldn't learn: to like yourself before liking the next person (I already knew that, re-learning!).
He didn't even bother to fight with himself, he justified it in traumas, in the death of his mother, in versions that were not yet totally absent in his person. He was lost, I accepted, I welcomed him, but I never gave him the keys to the exit door of that hell that he himself created. I didn't want to be a part of that, I couldn't fix, help, love someone who didn't do the minimum for himself. I wasn't looking for him in the first place, I wasn't looking for what he had, what he was, I didn't want him. He pulled me.
I accepted the pull and the others that I stayed and saw him blame himself for my decision is what made him worse. I witnessed death messages under my nose, immediately deleted before I could see. But it's not all about him, I had found a part of me that I couldn't without him. I was at peace, more than ever, I saw what I was from the outside all these years that I loved someone, I hurt myself and lied to myself thinking I was on top. I love myself, I have no problems with me, I'm mentally and emotionally healthy. He was a pleasant mirror, but on the other side of the mirror.. I still wonder if he saw his dead mother, or just a black silhouette.
I stepped on my own foot, every time he blamed himself I bit my teeth, every time he didn't take responsibility for his mistakes and passed them on to the dead, to his versions, to the habits he DIDN'T TRY to change. Total displeasure, while he feared not having the expected romances, I had nothing in my hands to give him, I could give him a slap, my hands weren't busy, or I could just show him how little I could give him regarding the unfulfilled fantasies. I was toxic, I opened up to him, to myself, to all those I love, this opening up is painful, it's like opening myself up physically, tearing the skin, taking off scabs, it's uncomfortable, it's painful, it's torture, but it also gives freedom, it gives flexibility, it gives awareness, it gives strength for the next time. All this for the wound to solidify into a terrible scab, bumps on the skin that get caught and come off. It's a heavy burden, it's better to go through it and feel free than to show the world that you don't have scars, that's cowardice, show the world that scars can look bad, they always can. But.. what does it matter, that's your part, it's not what others have in their head growing and evolving all the time, an opinion. An opinion is necessary, this story has more than your side, it always has more than your side, it has 8 billion sides and even a few more for those who weren't counted. Showing the world your scars are.. it's a beautiful act for yourself.
It disproves religion which is the book most touched by humans, but least by people who would value themselves instead of the adapted words, forgotten millions of times. It disproves others who lived their whole lives adapting their point of view, learning and seeing the world in impressively incomparable ways, that in 10 years will either be dead, or finding a way to feel more alive than before instead of worrying about what they told you, by the same time they should already have another opinion. Anyway.. I decided to slap him with a message, a classic "seek professional help" and "I don't want anything to do with you" felt good.
This was long after seeing his profile picture change to a random anime character with the chest area covered in blood because he was hit by an arrow in the heart area, I didn't feel pity, I felt a taste, a salty taste of a sweet sold by random guys on the beach, I'm sunbathing and BAM! "BERLIN BALLS!" right at that moment.
It was he who was killing himself with his fictions, I was feeding my pleasure of living and discovering parts of me that were only good to expose to the light of day. I grew, he is still discovering, but he hasn't stopped walking. I'm happy, I hope he is one day. He deserves better than my person for a romantic or platonic relationship, better than all this, may life bless him, without religion. If you're reading this: I'll never forget you, now you're a part of me until my last moments, not in a romantic way, I won't miss you, I'll miss what you didn't do for me. Thank you.
— The End —