An Open Letter To My Ex: I've Moved On

I spent the first few months wondering “how” and “why” and in all my searches, I eventually uncovered that it doesn’t matter. I think from day one, I was in love with the idea of who you could be and what we could be, and unfortunately I took that and ran with it. I never took the time to truly get to know the real you and fall for that person. I probably never would have fallen in love with your anxious, jealous, manipulative behaviour. I spent so many months wondering “did he ever really love me?”, and now I find myself wondering if I ever really loved you. At first, I thought about the years we spent together and how much time I’d invested or wasted with you. As time went on I realized that my life in no way stopped when I was with you. Being with such a neglectful person gave me years to discover new interests, meet new friends, focus on my career and work through some very difficult situations in my life. I had no real support or encouragement from you, and today I have the satisfaction of knowing I did all of that on my own. I used to think that I left our relationship being completely broken as a person... but I now realize I came out of it a better person, a better daughter, a better friend. There were milestones to getting over you. Getting rid of all your belongings, giving up on the idea that you might call me someday to apologize, going on my first date, losing weight, having a man properly fuck me. I’ve come to enjoy my own space so much that I can’t even comprehend how I ever shared it with you. Remembering that night you moved in because it was your only option, and I was somehow excited about this. Maybe I thought I finally had you - but that was the night I lost you for good. That was the night where my actions said “step all over me, and I’ll still love you and bail you out”. That was the night where you knew you had me. I was an idiot. As I got rid of all traces of you, my place started feeling like a home again. That was my first sign that this was for the best. The weeks that followed included an out-pour of family and friends supporting me. Sharing their own stories, telling me I was beautiful even though I didn’t believe them. I made new friends during this time, despite what a wreck I felt like. In the months that followed, I finally, finally started to deal with my father’s death, without you there to tell me that I “have to get over it” (seriously, you dick). I got a new job. I joined new dance classes all over the city. I started taking pictures with myself in them again, sometimes I even felt pretty. Eventually I encountered that moment that I thought everyone was lying about. You know, “it gets better with time”? It wasn’t a specific moment or revelation, I was just done feeling broken by someone so broken himself. I’m not going to end this by thanking you or wishing you the best. First of all, you don’t deserve that - but it would also be completely phony on my part. All I’m going to say is fix yourself before you ever try to bring someone down with you again. And keep telling your friends that I was crazy, honestly, whatever makes you feel better. It hasn’t really stopped them from trying to hang out with me, anyways. Your life is only as good as you make it, and so far mine is so much better without you.