Remember when we were messing around with that old video camera I found in my room? “Are we going to show this at our wedding?!” “We have to! Hi family…!” “Here let me record you.” I found those discs, but the camera doesn’t work anymore. I thank that camera for breaking. Maybe it knew I shouldn't look at those recordings. Not because it would make me miss you, but because it would make me even more angry. And yes, I am certainly still angry. I think that’s why I’m writing this. I really don’t want to be angry about this anymore. It’s been years, it may even seem longer to you, but I remember the moment you broke my heart like it was an hour ago.
God I was so excited to come home from work that day that I was actually giddy, smiling as I walked through my door. Stupid. But I had a plan and I couldn’t wait. I was going to pick you up and sneak us into this pool I knew of to go night swimming. It was the middle of the summer, I had been wanting to do it for a while, I thought it’d be perfect. Stupid. Was I that completely off with us? While I was thinking about what bikini I was going to wear, you were writing, I’m sorry, texting, your bullshit break up message.
It probably took me less than a minute to read it the first time. I say first time because I ended up reading it about 67 times that day. I had it memorized, even. But during that first read, not only did my heart drop, or my stomach drop, but my whole body dropped, BOY. I fell to the floor. You know, the spot between my bed and the dresser that holds the TV you bought me as an apology one time. I sank right here. Everything felt heavy: the air, my face, my arm as I brought my shaking hand to the call button. No answer. Called again. No answer. “Answer me, PLEASE!” I actually wept to myself. But no, you were too selfish. God forbid you hear my broken voice, right? Why would you deserve that, BOY?
I don’t know if this happens with all break ups, or just that one, but at the time, I was the one who felt at fault. It was me. He broke up with me after such a beautiful relationship in a text message because of me. I shouldn’t have been so psychotic or clingy or worried about his ex or so on. I didn’t deserve a proper breakup. I begged for you back. At the time, it was, “BOY broke up with me through text.” But now? Now it’s, “BOY broke up with ME!? through a TEXT?!” No I don’t feel conceited saying it that way. Not one bit. I see now I wasn’t psychotic, or clingy, or worried about unnecessary things. It was you who made me believe that. God, you were so good at that, weren’t you? Making me second guess myself. Making me feel like I was overreacting. I was a damn good girlfriend to you and you know that. Sorry, this isn’t about that. I guess, I don’t know, BOY, it’s just… I trusted you and as ridiculous as it sounds, I thought I was special to you. After everything we had been through, the relationship we had, the awesome memories we created, the moments we experienced together, how DARE you do that to me. Though you made it seem like I was, maybe I just wasn’t that special to you. But did you really not appreciate me or even respect me enough to face me when you broke me?
It may seem like it, but I’m not bitter, or sad at all, that you broke up with me. Of course I was at the time. I believe that after all break ups, we always think of the good of the relationship and get depressed because we miss the good. But as time goes by, and the sadness goes away, you start to see the not-so-good, and you get to really see that sometimes the not-so-good didn’t outweigh the good like you thought it did. As much as I appreciated, and still do appreciate our relationship, I don’t have this grudge because you broke up with me. Seriously! I have this grudge because you did it through a fucking text message, BOY. I know you eventually told me that you had to do it that way because you just couldn’t stand to see me that upset. But that’s bullshit! You don’t get to choose that! You don’t get to take the fucking easy way out. When you break up with someone who put time and effort into a relationship with you, especially the way I know I did, you HAVE to feel the pain, too. You HAVE to face them. Or else you disrespect them, you belittle them, you make them feel so low. You made me feel so low, BOY. So low that I’m writing this years later.
I’m sure you’ve noticed, and maybe you’re wondering why I keep calling you BOY. I didn’t want to say your name, but you’re not a man to me, regardless of age. What you did was cowardly, and only boys take the easy, selfish, cowardly way out of things.
With love,
Jamie
