I’m moving out. As I leave, I promised myself to leave each and every memory of you, of us.
You are too painful to be a part of me, but still, I lingered.
You made me question myself tons of times.
You made me feel ugly and unclassy all the time.
Worst of all, you made me feel that I am never worthy of anything. And yet, I loved you. I tried my best to the perfect version of myself for you.
I kept hurting myself every time I apologized.
I could only blame myself for letting you into my life.
You became so confident that I love you. I’m done.
I’m letting us go.
You were the worst person I ever had, I wish I never ever entertained you. I wish you never happened.
I’m pushing us on the deepest and darkest corner of my brain, just in case I’d still want to be reminded of how stupid I was.
It’s over. We’re over. Us, never happened.
I guess everything’s off to a messy ending, anyway.
It was good while it lasted.
As I close the door and leave my keys,
I leave us there, somewhere neither of us can never go back.
Somewhere I wish I could erase everlong.
