This is the mail I wrote to my ex. I was really upset and frustrated and I felt abused and disrespected.
I mean honestly, he'd start a conversation with me on twitter and reply to my tweets with a "ShitGirlsSay"
hashtag.
He wasn't happy in Goa, Ahmedabad, Banglore, Mumbai, Singapore and finds reasons to complain about his room mate in New York. He was a whiny sissy for 4 years, and I accepted him, with all his goods and bads.
My one bad spell ( Okay I admit, it was a long one, but not 4 years long, I swear) had him packing bags and blocking me on twitter. *gasp gasp*
Maybe he was right. I made bad choices. For instance, I chose to stick around this self centered piece of shit for 4 years.
So, here it goes,
One fine day you wake up and realize I'm not taking "concrete steps" to get
close to you. So you tell me to leave all that I'm doing so I kill the
distance. Like I snap my fingers and get a new degree in a new continent.
Then you tell me you can't handle 6 years of immense separation, a number
you've randomly cooked up and its so bloody fixed in your head nothing I
tell you will change it.
So you call it all off. Send me a "good bye" mail and all that. My slow
reaction gets interpreted as me being "cold hearted" and "mean". And that
pisses you off more.
For an entire week my life is topsy turvey.. and you don't even realize
what you've done.
You say I'm the one for you, but you don't think I'm worth the wait.
You decide I'm not fucking serious enough about you. You act like a bastard
and victimize yourself by claiming borderline depression and loneliness.
I'm made to feel like the bad person in here by claiming I'm not there for you.
Your choice, your dream to go live in that big country, that wasn't the
cause baby, it was all me.
But this time, I don't apologize. I've had enough of saying sorry for
mistakes that were never mine.
I ask for one more try. But I'm not convinced about it myself.
I cry. I beg. Doesn't affect you.
Then you suddenly think I'm worth it. So you say a sorry. And you convince
yourself all my scars are gone. All it took was one fucking sorry from you.
I'm still not sure. You take a 'vow' to get me saying "I love you" by the
end of the week. Like I'm just another goddamn conquest of your glorious
bloody life.
You act like an arrogant shithead and I still take you back.
You manage to get me saying the "three magical words" again. But baby, I'm
still not sure.
I act like I'm treading on egg shells. All my words are measured. I'm not
being myself. You don't even realize it. Your closest observation is, "You
are saying too many LOLs these days"
Gradually, I'm getting around the fact that maybe, just maybe, you'll
really love me for what I am, no matter what I say or do, I'm not going to
lose you. I start being more me.
Then a little wishy wasshy argument happens.
I hope you'll just be a typical guy who'll try and make up.
But what do you? You tell me to cut back on the drama.
What the fuck were you doing all this while you asshole?
Your PMS-eque actions were aimed at getting me to leave my dream, my
ambitions behind just so we can fucking cure you goddamn self imposed
loneliness but that's all right.
I expect one time sweet gesture from you and I need to cut back on the
drama?
Fuck off you bastard.
*Honestly, is all this really worth the pain? I'm not even sure if this
makes me happy anymore.*
May this mail serve as a warning to all prospective guys (if there are any, at all) that as nice as I am, you don't want to piss me off. *snarl*
I mean honestly, he'd start a conversation with me on twitter and reply to my tweets with a "ShitGirlsSay"
hashtag.
He wasn't happy in Goa, Ahmedabad, Banglore, Mumbai, Singapore and finds reasons to complain about his room mate in New York. He was a whiny sissy for 4 years, and I accepted him, with all his goods and bads.
My one bad spell ( Okay I admit, it was a long one, but not 4 years long, I swear) had him packing bags and blocking me on twitter. *gasp gasp*
I didn't like him talking to other chics, for the sole reason that he'd be super nice them while I got a shitgirlssay hashtag. Won't I feel insecure, you tell me?
I don't think he knows who my favorite artist is, but I'm sure he's ridiculed him without even listening to his songs.
I don't think he knows who my favorite artist is, but I'm sure he's ridiculed him without even listening to his songs.
He ridiculed my choices in music, books, authors, sitcoms, and career paths.
Maybe he was right. I made bad choices. For instance, I chose to stick around this self centered piece of shit for 4 years.
So, here it goes,
close to you. So you tell me to leave all that I'm doing so I kill the
distance. Like I snap my fingers and get a new degree in a new continent.
Then you tell me you can't handle 6 years of immense separation, a number
you've randomly cooked up and its so bloody fixed in your head nothing I
tell you will change it.
So you call it all off. Send me a "good bye" mail and all that. My slow
reaction gets interpreted as me being "cold hearted" and "mean". And that
pisses you off more.
For an entire week my life is topsy turvey.. and you don't even realize
what you've done.
You say I'm the one for you, but you don't think I'm worth the wait.
You decide I'm not fucking serious enough about you. You act like a bastard
and victimize yourself by claiming borderline depression and loneliness.
I'm made to feel like the bad person in here by claiming I'm not there for you.
Your choice, your dream to go live in that big country, that wasn't the
cause baby, it was all me.
But this time, I don't apologize. I've had enough of saying sorry for
mistakes that were never mine.
I ask for one more try. But I'm not convinced about it myself.
I cry. I beg. Doesn't affect you.
Then you suddenly think I'm worth it. So you say a sorry. And you convince
yourself all my scars are gone. All it took was one fucking sorry from you.
I'm still not sure. You take a 'vow' to get me saying "I love you" by the
end of the week. Like I'm just another goddamn conquest of your glorious
bloody life.
You act like an arrogant shithead and I still take you back.
You manage to get me saying the "three magical words" again. But baby, I'm
still not sure.
I act like I'm treading on egg shells. All my words are measured. I'm not
being myself. You don't even realize it. Your closest observation is, "You
are saying too many LOLs these days"
Gradually, I'm getting around the fact that maybe, just maybe, you'll
really love me for what I am, no matter what I say or do, I'm not going to
lose you. I start being more me.
Then a little wishy wasshy argument happens.
I hope you'll just be a typical guy who'll try and make up.
But what do you? You tell me to cut back on the drama.
What the fuck were you doing all this while you asshole?
Your PMS-eque actions were aimed at getting me to leave my dream, my
ambitions behind just so we can fucking cure you goddamn self imposed
loneliness but that's all right.
I expect one time sweet gesture from you and I need to cut back on the
drama?
Fuck off you bastard.
*Honestly, is all this really worth the pain? I'm not even sure if this
makes me happy anymore.*
May this mail serve as a warning to all prospective guys (if there are any, at all) that as nice as I am, you don't want to piss me off. *snarl*
