When I met you, I knew in some way, you would hold significance to my life. I knew you were going to be a constant. I knew you would change me.
Yes, we had our disagreements, but we always made our way back to each other. I always felt you in my heart, there’s nothing you could do to make me that upset for long. I already needed you.
You have issues. Internal struggles with yourself, external issues with your family and others around you and it weighs you down. But the struggles you faced made it impossible for you to love me the way you wanted to, the way I needed you to. Still, for a year I held on, praying you would stay with me, praying you would get better. Through all the fights, the petty disagreements, I stayed.
I loved you without restrictions and caution. I knew you could be better. I wanted to see that happen for you. I wanted to help you get to where you should be. I believed in you. I would do, anything for you.
My expectations and whatever other struggles you faced were too much for you, and the pressure you put on yourself suffocated you. Your eyes began to wander. You wanted something easier, someone who wouldn’t push you to be better.
You found what you were looking for, right after you actually ended it with me, which still hurts me more than you could ever know.
Fast forward a few months from the day you told me someone else had more to offer, you tell everyone that you’re happy. You’ve come in and out of my life so frequently, breaking bits and pieces of me more and more every time. You tell me you’re happy.
As I watched it happen, I felt pieces of myself, my soul, disintegrate and disappear. I grew colder, I put a wall up around myself. Letting myself feel soft for you only hurt me worse.
I didn’t want to move on from you. I hoped that you would come back and sweep me up and make things better. But eventually, I have to move on. I have to heal myself. I have to fix what you shattered. It didn’t come easily, and nearly everyday is a struggle… but I have to.
I knew that the love you had to give me had already run out and it hurts. I remember feeling as though I was the person you cared most about in this world. I remember feeling so lost as to where I stood with you. Realizing you had fallen out of love with me is one of the worst experiences I’ve ever had.
But at the same time, it thrills me that I’ve experienced someone – because you were an experience, not just a person to be met – that has made such an impact on me. I think I’m having one of those lucky days. Although, it might just be me missing you yet again.
Sometimes, I wonder what kind of direction my life would’ve taken if I had never met you. I can’t decide if it would be better or worse, and that’s what scares me most about all of this. I still can’t decide if I actually wish I had never met you. I think there’s a part of me, no matter how badly we hurt each other, that will always be so grateful to have had the chance to know you. For as much as you broke me, you made me whole in different ways.
I’m glad you were what broke me, so I can be better. I was given the chance to become that much more whole. I got to see the risks in which you can love someone, the ways in which love can change you. You were a beautiful destroyer, but the beauty doesn’t have a hold on me anymore. For all that you got from me, for all of the ways you ruined me, and the ways you so hurt me, I have to learn from them.
Maybe our love’s purpose was designed to break, after all. We were meant to be a love that ruined and wrecked, that will lead us to grow and change, though we fought it every step of the way. Our love went with pain. It is the greatest teacher, as it instructs us what not to do in the future, so as to avoid that harsh experience in another, similar instance.
Even though it hurts, I will still keep those memories. They break me, but that pain of remembering it both hurts and heals. If you’ve taught me anything, it’s that loving you was both my destruction, and my salvation. You might have broken me into pieces, and you may have destroyed a part of who I used to be. In all the times that you left me shattered by myself, I made a mosaic of our broken memories. This mosaic of love and hatred is how I love you now.