Closure.

You always knew that I was the paper to your pair of scissors. The way you cut through me- with ease, with subtle precision, with a sharp sense of grace...You knew what you were doing. You knew how good you were at it.

But when you were done,

Did you leave behind a masterpiece?

No.

You left behind hundreds of thousands of tiny paper shards of myself.

My heart, my soul, my everything.

x-x-x

Did you think I could heal and tape myself back together?

There were some parts of me you tore away, that I can never get back. I will always feel incomplete, incompetent, insecure.

You showed me that I was not good enough for this world.

x-x-x

For you were my world. I thought I was your Atlas. I tried to take your weight on my shoulders. To share your burden. To provide the support I thought you needed. I just never realised when you reached the point that you didn’t need me anymore. I never realised when my worth turned out to be equivalent to trash in your eyes.

x-x-x

You threw me away and disposed of me. You dented the part of my universe that I tried so hard to repair, just like a mechanic does with his broken car.

But when I thought I finally had done my job of repairing my world and starting fresh again, I was shaken up by the fact that you

already

found

another

Atlas.

x-x-x

Speaking of Atlases, I always believed I knew the roadmap to your heart.

I thought I could drive my truck full of love across the borders of your arteries and fill your heart up with bits and pieces of me that would stay with you forever...and maybe even beyond.

Was it delusional?

Maybe.

Did I believe it?

I believed you...and everything you ever said to me.

x-x-x

But what you did...it hit me like a truck. My vision got all blurry because of the statues of our future you sculpted in my head, and how you then shattered them like they were so worthless to you.

It was my vision of my life with you: of us, of our children, of our future house, of our own beautiful paradise.

You.

Made.

Everything.

Seem.

So.

Real.

x-x-x

You were my diamond. The real, unpolished one that I, like a miner, carved out from the impenetrable stones of your heart, hardened by your pain and mistrust in people who used to mean a lot to you at one point but left...because everything was temporary. Diamonds last forever, and I convinced you that we were going to last. I just forgot that diamonds lose worth. I forgot they can easily be replaced by the artificial ones that seem to shine brighter, seem to be better, seem to have more meaning.

I realised I was that diamond, an object you used to be fascinated with until you found something else that grabbed your attention.

But you…you were so real, weren’t you? You made our future seem so real, so believable, so…perfect, despite our imperfections.

You found a way to replace me, to break ‘us' and break me, yet somehow still be unaffected through it.

x-x-x

For the longest time, I couldn’t accept it. I lied to myself for as long as I could remember, that no, she loved me. That despite everything she does, she still loves me. She might have fucked up, but she had her reasons.

That

she

deserved

every

chance.

x-x-x

I was the gun. You were my trigger. When you squeezed it, I believed you must’ve forgotten that its muzzle was faced right at me. Or you must’ve misunderstood us for playing a silly game of Russian Roulette.

I realise now, that after all, I was just another game to you.

I believed you...because I could never imagine the possibility of you intentionally hurting me.

I was wrong.

You tore through me like a bullet. 
Ripped me open. 
Broke my heart. 
Stripped my soul.

Now, with all that’s left of me, I have nothing to say to you but--

Goodbye.

Yours, truly.

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