He Led Me On

He led me on.

For years, months, weeks, days, hour to hour,

minute to minute.

The strings that held me to him,

I slowly began to cut.

One by one.

And instead of allowing me to

escape with a sliver of sanity, he vanished.

And his disappearing wasn’t just

devastating, it was cataclysmic.

I didn’t sit around eating ice cream

or hide in the shower crying quietly over a boy that broke my heart.

I planted myself in bed and dug roots.

Roots so deep that I never thought I’d be part of the World again.

Day after day, I battled with surviving.

Sleeping to avoid feeling the pain.

Staying awake to avoid meeting

him in my dreams.

I waited for time to heal me,

but every second that he continued to a disregard my existence,

parts of me continued to tear away.

And the hole in my chest only grew.

I wanted to be sedated, unable to think,

unable to feel.

My mind played every conversation over and over.

Nothing made sense.

I felt so inadequate, so worthless.

I was the bad guy in my own story.

Then the day came,

where I no longer fought to let him go,

but instead, allowed myself to go.

I didn’t stop loving him.

I didn’t even stop wanting him.

Throughout our time together I

had said all I could say, gave all I could.

I felt none of it was enough --

And the biggest mistake I ever

made, was allowing him to feed me excuses on why I should accept less than I deserved.

The pain was no longer his fault,

I was the problem.

I continued to try for someone who

put out no effort to have me.

He was doing nothing, and in turn

I shouldn’t have been doing anything.

All of it --

It was enough.

I cannot take back the moments we laughed until it hurt.

I cannot forget how he made me feel.

I cannot pretend I didn’t lose myself in him.

I cannot unlove him.

I did these things.

I can love myself more.

I can start demanding my worth.

I can be without him.