I hope, that one day, you miss me.

Maybe it will be tomorrow, maybe it will be a few weeks from now, or maybe it will be in five years. But one day, I hope you wake up and miss me. I hope you wake up and realize just how badly you fucked up – how terrible of a person you were, and above all, what you missed out on.

I guess you could say that I am also partially to blame. I invested too much time, too much effort, and too much emotion. I was foolish to not see that I was simply a distraction to pass the time until you found something better. And it destroyed me. You walked away without as much as a second glance, and you didn’t feel a goddamn thing. But how could you feel anything when you’ve made yourself the victim in every situation in your life? You’ll realize how far you had your head up your ass, and you’ll realize that too late. It’s too late.

I hope you wonder where I am, what I am doing, and who I am with. I hope you pick up your phone and begin to dial my number or start composing a text to me, and then I hope a rush of old memories of our good times hits you and overwhelms you enough that you can’t go on with what you’re doing. I hope you ask around to mutual friends about me and I hope you hear things that you don’t want to hear. That I’m happy. That I’m successful. That I’m with somebody new. That I’m all of those things without you.

One day, I hope we meet again. And I hope you tell me that you were wrong and that you miss me. And then… then I hope I can look you in the eye and tell you that I don’t. I don’t miss you at all. I’ll tell you that I’ve moved on, that I’ve created my own closure – no thanks to your sorry ass. Even more so, I’m going to mean it. I’m going to mean it when I say that I don’t miss you because I don’t miss you now. I’ve met new people and found ones that make me feel things that you couldn’t. I’ve done amazing things, and I did them on my own. I didn’t need you then, and I certainly don’t need you now. The truth is, I deserved better than you and that’s what I’ve found: a better you. Someone that isn’t you at all. And deep down, I think you know this, too.

I’ve moved to a new place. I’ve gotten a new job. I’ve traveled to new places and I’ve done new things. I’ve completely reinvented to myself to somebody that I love without validation from others. I am fearless and brave and not afraid to take some risks. I am strong and smart and independent. I am comfortable in my own skin and it’s nothing you’ve contributed to. I’ve found myself.

You did this to yourself. You were the one who decided to stop caring, and when I realized that I couldn’t change your mind no matter how hard I tried, I stopped caring too. I stopped reaching out. I told myself that if you really wanted to be friends after everything that happened, then you’d try to be friends. You’d ask me how I was. You’d make an effort. For lack of better words, you’d give a shit about me.

But you didn’t. So I took myself out of the equation. I cut all ties with you. If you wanted to be friends, then this time you’d really have to try. And again, you didn’t. So I moved on. I did what I knew best and that was to move on. I left you in the past and tried to erase all trace of you. I wanted to forget that you existed, just like you forgot about me.

It wasn’t easy. It took time and guts and bravery that I didn’t know I had. In the long run, I think I could say that it was the best thing that could have happened to me. Our relationship had the best possible outcome for me. You were a mistake, and even if one day you asked, I would never take you back.

One day, I hope you wake up and miss me while I wake up and don’t give you a single goddamn thought.

Feature image via WeHeartIt