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Dear You,

I’ve been wondering if you even realize how lucky you are to have someone like me to be concerned about you. It just rarely crosses my mind if you ever think about me the same way–which doesn’t look like it, btw.

So anyway, hi. Do you know how much I hate you at this point in time? You may be wondering how this has come to this state. Let me enlighten you. First, you made me believe that you still liked me even after everything that happened over the summer. With all the uncertainty that I was feeling, you assured me that we will get better. Well, fuck you cause we didn’t. We’re not fucking better. I told you that you shouldn’t promise me this silly thing and you told me that it was okay because we were gonna make it happen. I thought that you were gonna put in some extra effort. But you didn’t. I hoped. Expected, even. But nothing happened. I just ended up being disappointed. As always. What made this worse was when we met up and you invited me to your apartment. You were once again going sweet on me. Telling me things you didn’t care to share before. Being so open and vulnerable with your issues. Emotional connection, not of romance, finally but of something deeper. A little sense of touch. Caressing my hair. Playing footsie with me. And accompanying me back to UP. One of the best moments that we had, I must say. Then after that day, telling me that we were gonna talk that Monday. You forget everything about that. In that instance, I felt like you didn’t give importance on that defining talk. Like as if it was just nothing. Or on second thought, you could have actually remembered it but then didn’t have the guts yet again to talk to me about it. I felt like it was very easy for you to disappoint me. You could do it with ease and without guilt. You do know that peace of mind was stolen from me. Stolen from you. Stolen from both of us. Yet you didn’t bother talking to me about it and just resorted to “Come what may” on when the talk should be. I felt so disappointed. So unimportant. So uncared for. So worthless. You’ve made me feel a thousand wondrous things then make me feel a million pieces shattered. That’s how incredible you are. Thanks.

That was the first. I tried to stop the hate and just again go with the flow. Accept your invites to lunch even if that mere act breaks my heart into million pieces every single time. Imagine how I’m supposed to feel that we are eating together just like the old times but knowing that things are different now. How weird. How painful. How painful to see your hand and it being not intertwined with mine. Hurts so bad. Like one of the worst feelings ever. I just couldn’t… I could have said no to your invites, I know but there was a part of me that waited for you to actually talk to me about things. But then I still ended up waiting for nothing. I guess I’m just waiting in vain for your love.

But then, the worst has yet to come. This defining day–almost. This day that made me want to eat, puff and smoke, drink, and eat the pain away. Tried to do away with it but just couldn’t. You may not know how much this has impacted me but here, let me help you. On this certain day, 9th of July, my shattered heart was again crushed and pounded enough until it was no longer capable of feeling anything happy. Of anything but sadness, frustration, and being broken. That day, I cried myself to sleep. I was reminiscing the good times–looked at past conversations, happy pictures, and remembered all the wonderful moments. Did that for hours straight that it got me to missing you a whole lot. Add to that the fact that I haven’t talked to you in days. So there I was, feeling the desperation and pouring my heart out to you by sending you a text message saying how bad I miss you. That gesture was so not me–being the unexpressive and never the one who said that first without being sure of the other’s reply. But I really did that. Yup, such a shameless thing to do, self. Sent that message and continued to cry myself to sleep. I wasn’t really waiting for a reply when the sun came up. Or not. Probably, there was a part of me that was wanting (and maybe, needing) for you to go to the nearest convenience store and have your prepaid card reloaded for credits so that you’d be able to reply to that message. But no, you didn’t. I just comforted myself that you might not have enough money to do so or maybe, you didn’t even receive the message. Got over that for a little while. But things got way out of hand when I was with a group of orgmates and the topic of “we” was brought up. The orgmate who’s also your housemate told the other people that there is no more we. That it is over. We are over. I asked him where he got this news. He told me that there’s nothing to hide since they talk all day everyday. At that moment, I felt betrayed, sad, and broken. Yup, those three all at once. How dare you define what we are to other people and not me. How fucking dare you?! Guess what I felt after just having had told you that late night confession in which nothing was held back. The pain–I just can’t put into words. All I know is that it is excruciatingly painful. That I know this pain made me hate you even more. That this pain entails me not talking to you ever and not having you as my and me as your friend.

These are just some of the may things that made me hate you. Things that made all those sweet stuff go away and have just the bad memories to retain. I don’t want to cite exhibits of other events as I don’t want to mix this personal issue that we have. Or that I have on you, rather. With the org stuff that we’re supposed to be handling. Hey, Mr. President maybe you’ve also forgotten that you have been elected as the head of the organization and that you’re supposed to work your ass. Okay, I’m gonna stop now. As I’ve said, I don’t want to have these two (entirely) different things to mix up. And there’s no point in saying all of these things anyway because you don’t give a damn. You just don’t care, do you? Oh wait, you do. But all you care about is yourself. You fucking douchebag. I gave you all the love and understanding that you (said you) needed. And you’re gonna pay me with this. How very kind of you. Thank you very much for your time. I hope you find your happiness with the kind of attitude and outlook that you have.

Oh, you might be curious. I have no plans on getting back together or being friends or whatever of that like. I’m just so tired of putting up with you and your excuses. I’m done with you.

Good luck. Goodbye.

P.S. Sorry for being a coward and not being able to let you read what is supposed to be gotten across. Of what is really addressed to you. I guess I’m nearly as coward as you are.

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