picking at scabs (bad habits)

 

loving something that’s bad for you is a cycle that’s hard to break.

i can’t count how long i sat convincing myself i was crazy.

that i was overreacting.

that this was normal.

and every time it felt like the end,

all i could think about were the good memories—

the moments i couldn’t stop smiling,

the moments i was holding onto for dear life.

i held onto the idea of someone who loved me the way i loved them.

and sure, maybe sometimes it felt that way.

but other times, it felt like that person didn’t exist…

or maybe just existed in my head.

something in me wanted it to be you so badly.

maybe i just didn’t want to start over with someone new.

but the nights i found myself alone,

i couldn’t help but feel something was wrong.

i had too much time to think—

and before everything, i would’ve never guessed

your love was being given to someone else.

all the accusing, the arguments,

the blaming me for things i wasn’t doing—

you were projecting.

you were telling me to my face what was really happening.

and i ignored it.

i gave you the benefit of the doubt, over and over.

i gripped onto you and the idea that you loved me enough.

but eventually, there’s no security in that.

you could look me dead in the eyes and lie.

lie.

lie.

lie.

i saw so much good in you—

and lost myself waiting for you to change.

i still reminisce on the time when it felt like

the most beautiful feeling i had ever known.

and i still find myself missing you

when my brain decides to ignore the bad times.

every time i gave you “one more shot.”

every time i said, “what if…”

but, i had to face it:

there’s no point in loving someone

who has repeatedly proven to be incapable

of loving me the right way.

why would i fight for someone

who refuses to make an effort with me?

or continues to put effort into someone else

while i wait at home?

so i take this as a lesson—like i do with most things.

i have never been hurt the way you hurt me.

now i know to be more cautious with who i give my love to.

you saw my naive, innocent perception of love,

and you wanted to see how far you could push it.

actions mean more than words.

you could say “i’ll make it up to you” a hundred times.

but if you keep repeating the same actions,

there’s nothing left to fix.

i can’t see myself being associated with someone

who could lie, cheat, and manipulate me to my wit’s end—with no remorse.

you were both the wrong man and the right man for me.

and honestly, life would be easier if i hated you.

but i don’t.

i’ll never get the apology i deserve.

and it wouldn’t change anything if i did.

i owe it to myself to learn and to heal.

i hope you live the life you wanted.

i hope you find someone to treat

the way you once promised to treat me.

i wish you more than the best.

and i wish that for myself, too.

do what my dad couldn’t—

and be a fucking man.

– o