You win.

Dear W,

I have a confession to make, a year and a half ago I made the bravest decision I have ever done since meeting you: I blocked you, not because I didn't care about you anymore, but because I cared too much. The confession is, sadly, I still do. I can't pretend anymore. Every wall I built around my heart during this time is falling apart. And I try my best to patch everything up as soon as it crumbles, but it's all falling to pieces at the speed of light. Like me.

You know what I did? I went to collect those pieces, and to my dismay, staring closely, I found out that what I thought was concrete surrounding my heart, was actually tiny fragments of us, of our shared memories, and of blank memories that we will never develop together, that we will never live.

I remember I told you once that I cannot keep living in the shadows of what we once had, and for a long while I really thought I didn't. I really hoped I didn't. But deep down? I liked the shadow. I liked your shadow. For the longest time, it kept me safe from the blazing rays of sun. But unbeknownst to me, I was still melting. Slowly. Silently. I chose you as my savior and you left me to fade away, and I loved you anyway.

I never said this word to you, "Love", you never did either. I have always wondered if what I felt for you was actual love, or something hungrier. Something paralyzing. Addictive. And I have always wondered whether you loved me back, or whether you were just using me to make yourself feel better. 

Who am I kidding? You never even had the guts to say you miss me, let alone love me? How stupid of me to wait to be loved by someone who didn't even love himself.

This is not an insult, I remember the night you told me that. It was winter, end of November. I was lying in bed, and we were talking on the phone. You said that you don't love yourself, and I told you not to say that. Somehow during that conversation, my mind felt sorry for you, and my heart vowed to love you for the two of us. And unfortunately, it kept its promise far longer that it should have.

Now, all I can do is remember...

Our first date was a typical coffee date. I was very late, and you waited patiently for me to show up. And when I did, almost an hour later, the first thing you did was show me a clip of my favorite TV show. No blame, just patience to meet me. That's how our story began.

I remember your first attempt to kiss me, how awkward it was, how stressed you were to impress me, and how you failed so miserably it ended up being so funny. And somehow, that made it sweet.

I remember the first time we laughed. I loved that laugh. You know you never said it when I asked if you missed me, you'd just laugh uncomfortably, smile then nod. I kept asking it to make you laugh, and you kept laughing, smiling then nodding not knowing that you were breaking my heart a little by not saying it, then immediately putting a band-aid on that crack you caused with your laugh.

I remember the first time we got intimate, and the first time we made love, and every single time afterward.

I remember whenever we were chilling in your bed, watching a series, I'd glance over to look at your childhood picture, the big one hanging next to the bed. At first, it was very uncomfortable for me to look at it. It was too intimate, too soon. But week after week, the more time I spent with you, the more I liked the picture. The first time I felt it was cute instead of awkward, I knew I had fallen for you. Funny now how I vaguely remember how it looks like, but I have never forgotten how it made me feel: in love, and hopeful.

I remember the way you would fall fast asleep next to me, and how I would run my fingers lightly along your right eyebrow and kiss it while your eyes were closed. You looked so peaceful, so vulnerable, and I felt my happiest with you in that tiny, fleeting moment. 

I remember the way you looked at me. Your eyes always gave you away. Wide, tender, sparkling with everything you couldn't say. When we last met, I couldn't even look you in the eyes, and you kept asking me what the problem was. That was the problem, your eyes. They were saying a lot of things your mouth never did, and I couldn't live on those unspoken promises anymore. They gave me hope, that I mattered to you, that you cared. But too much hope on my end and too little effort on your end, killed me from the inside. Quietly. Day by day. You told me later that you felt I was wary, and I dismissed that. I said maybe I was sad. Now looking back, I was wary. I was face to face with the guy I loved the most, and who hurt me the most. I was protecting myself from you. And I failed again.

I also remember the way you used to come by my house to pick me up and bring me back to your place. You'd go straight to your room to pause the music that was playing, while I'd take off my jacket and I'd put my purse on the living room table and keep talking to you from a distance. You'd take off your clothes quickly and come back immediately to kiss me. You wouldn't even let me finish what I was saying. That was your ritual, and that kiss made me feel like maybe, just maybe, you loved me.

I remember the first time I slept over at your place, and how upset I was when I found out you still had a dating app on your phone, even though you promised you never used it, and I believed you. You fell asleep but I was still so upset I couldn't sleep next to you. I was angry, hurt and felt invisible. I went to the living room couch and curled up there. I must've fallen asleep because all I remember next was you waking me up in the middle of the night and saying, "let us go back to bed." And all I was thinking about during that time is that you said us, in bed, together, and I felt happy. That's all I ever wanted from you actually. To be chosen by you. To be acknowledged in your life. A simple us. Nothing more.

I remember the first time I cried in front of you. It was raw. Anxious. Violent. I had never cried like that in front of anybody. You came over that night. I was already upset at you, and you, as always, were trying to crack some jokes and make me laugh to ease the tension. I didn't want to talk to you, and you were threatening to leave, and then I couldn't hold it back anymore. I collapsed into tears in front of you while you were mid-putting your shoes on. You immediately dropped them and climbed back into bed, wrapped your arms around me and told me everything will be ok. I turned around to hug you back. I was clinging to you like a child clinging to their parent when they are scared, like something wounded clinging on for dear life. You made me feel so safe. But how can that be? Your actions provoked that waterfall, and paradoxically, only you could sooth me. Isn't that the cruelest part? You were both my wound and my remedy. I started spewing everything that night: how I was unhappy with you, how I felt neglected, how your indifference made me even more depressed, how my friends told me to leave you because you're a walking red flag, how I was exhausted of justifying my own needs. After what felt like an eternity, I stopped talking. I thought I had considered every possible scenario to expect after such a conversation. What I didn't expect was a panic attack, which you managed so well, by the way. I hated that I caused you harm that day, it was never my intention. But what about the harm you caused me? And the ache that lingers still years later?

I am not writing this to complain, or to judge, or to blame. I am simply writing all of this in the hopes that it will help me forget everything I remember about you. I am just tired. I want to forget. I don't need these memories in my head. I don't want these memories creeping in whenever they have the slightest chance. I can't afford to have these memories anymore. Here, take them back please. You caused them, you keep them. I'm done carrying them like proof that I once mattered to you. I'm withdrawing from this competition I made in my head. 

Congrats, you win.

Farewell, W.

Very mildly indifferent regards,

The girl you probably forgot all about,

Shayma