Dear... The Person Who Ghosted Me
Do you know how much you hurt me?
Sitting over there, did you think about my feelings at all?
Did you knowingly take advantage of the fact that I’m too nice?
Because I had more trust in you, more trust in your character, for you to do this to me.
Ghosting is a special type of rejection, simply because you don’t get one.
I was so insignificant that I didn’t get the dignity of being told that I wasn’t good enough.
I was just ignored.
And that makes one feel so… small.
And I hate that.
I hate that you can make me feel so less of myself.
But I can’t hate you for it.
No matter how cowardly, mistrustful, immature, selfish you are,
I just can’t hate you.
And I guess that’s part of being me.
And I guess part of being you
Is being cowardly, getting drunk one night instead of talking to me like you said you’d would for the past week,
And mistrustful, because I never can tell if you’ll stick to your word anymore,
And immature, because the only humor you seem to have is inappropriate humor and I can’t believe I used to find that endearing,
And being you is being selfish, because did you ever consider that that could have been my first kiss? You tainted something precious and let me sink back into where I was when I met you; a small, unconfident, little girl looking for a friend.
So, if you feel uncomfy, if you feel guilty, if you feel the tiniest bit of anger for what I’ve said, good.
Because I’ve spent the last month squished between self-remorse and anger, and I am exhausted.
All I ask is that you look me in the eye, that you recognize all the pain you’ve put me through, recognize that I don’t deserve this, and the next time you decide to kiss a girl give her some damn respect.