back to you

When do you know when enough is enough? I’ve struggled when it comes to setting boundaries. I’ve found myself guilty of letting people walk all over me. Isn’t funny how people that used to be in your life comeback at the right time. Finally, after many days and therapy sessions, you were skilled to take yourself out of the hole they put you in and… boom! Hey bitch, missed me? They always come back, especially when you’ve moved on. Finally I “draw the line”, and I tried… But just recently I tripped, I crossed the line and thought of him. One year two months, my head still brought me back to that day. I thought I was done, but I think it hasn’t really ended yet. We were a terrible mess, but if I think about it wasn’t it the best? Therefore, just because it’s over doesn’t mean it’s indeed over. And if I think about it, maybe he will come again, and maybe this time it will be different, or I shall get over him again. I can’t even go online and not check his name on Instagram. I hate it and hate me because of him. Every once in a while, I will think about him. At that point in time, I will recall those careless nights. I will have to talk to myself because my friends are sick of hearing me talking about him:

Baby, just because you miss him doesn’t mean you have to allow him back into your life. Just because you felt like you loved him doesn’t mean he feels the same way. If it was love, you wouldn’t feel the way you do now. Remember why it didn’t worked out, save yourself a headache and avoid another heartbreak.

I know, I know, I genuinely know. It’s hard for me to be patient with myself. Overthinking every word and I hate it, and I hate myself. I have to convince me every single time I don’t want it even though I do. I would let him break my heart, break my soul, break my back, break everything and when I heal, I would allow him to do it repeatedly. You could say I’m an expert when it comes to self-sabotage. I want to hold him when I’m not supposed to, even when I would be with someone else. There would be days when I would find myself with his face still stuck in my head. For a second and if given the chance I would do it all again, I know I’d go back to him. I think if two people are meant to be together, eventually they’ll find their way back. I also think that’s bullshit. You can love the devil, it can even love you back, but that doesn’t change its nature.

I can’t start the next chapter of my life if I keep on re-reading the previous one. I don’t ever want to go back to him. I don’t want to revisit the same book over and over again when I know how the story ends. I know in the bottom of my heart that there’s a guy out there who is going to be really happy that I didn’t get back to him. He will think that I am so exciting. Until then and until when I’ve learned the right way to love myself. I’m afraid that I will never be able to heal myself properly if I don’t set boundaries. People say time heals all wounds but fuck time and fuck anyone that says that, including me. I just want to get over it, but patience is not my virtue. My mom long ago said: don’t go back to less just because you’re impatient to wait for the best.

So, move on gorgeous, there are guys who would beg for your pretty little heart. I’ll leave the past behind; if he calls, I will not answer cause there’s nothing left or new to say. I’ve been down this road before, followed the same direction, the wrong direction. I don’t hate him and don’t think I loved him either. Love and hate are such strong words, they also cause so much pain. I think it was just the idea of him, of what we could’ve been. It became an addiction, a drug so painful and delightful at the same time. The thing about addiction is that it never ends peacefully. Eventually the way he made me feel, will stop feeling good and start to hurt. But you don’t overcome a harmful habit until you hit rock bottom. How do you know when you are there? Because no matter how badly something is hurting, sometimes letting it go will bring more harm. I think that’s what I hate, all the hurt that he put me through and that I blame myself for letting him. “Loved” me with his worst intentions. I never paused to question every time he would cut me down to pieces. Don’t know how, for a moment it felt like paradise. Standing on my tiptoes but I still couldn’t reach his character. Guess I was delusional, to give him my body, my mind. I was so stupid. Everyone thinks that he is somebody else, a great liar that he has even convinced himself. Why does everybody love him? They don’t know enough about him. Do they know that I regret him? Do they know I shouldn’t have to?

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