I wrote a mail once, with the subject: ’ I want to stop pretending I want to tell the world you’re mine. ‘
It was the title of a poem or rather a song without music and vocals of a dying bird— me. It was a mail I wrote in my über-lowest-down-moment. I wrote it after a guy dumped me in the subway station after ignoring and avoiding me. Not very subtle of him really, especially for the fact that we do go to the same high-school and we were in the same class! *facepalm*
Like every desperate, pathetic, cryingherheartoutmakeupruiningherentireface-dumpee I tried working it out with him. Resulting in nothing new; still got silence, he still raced out of the class to avoid me &c. I tried this for weeks! Eventually a month later I decided to write him a mail. That way, would’ve decided to open the mail or immediatly delete it, I would still have some sort of closure … or so I thought. Again like every cowardly desperate, pathetic, cryingherheartoutmakeupruiningherentireface-dumpee I did not send him the mail.
I found that mail today in my draftbox, during my yearly mailbox cleanup. I thought it would be fun to re-read it and make fun of myself. Sadly, I had the complete opposite feeling. Even if I am completely headoverheels for my Diego, I still felt the pain, sorrow and regret I expressed in my mail. I felt my heart break again. (and it is not because I am an AWESOEM writer).
It was plain young highschool-puppy love. I never expected it to go further than that. Although it was damned from the very beginning, closure is something every dumpee needs. Wondering WHY it ended hurts more than anything else.