That night, I ran away and got on some random bus that I had no idea where it would lead to but I didn’t care.
I just wanted to run away from the whole world even though I knew there was no place for me to escape from that nightmare.
I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t fathom any of it.
Everything that I thought was mine, I had wholeheartedly treasured, just vanished like a popped bubble in front of my eyes.
I thought he blind-sided me. He strung me along. He made me his rebound. I was just a temporary band-aid for his broken heart.
And while I was left behind, all wounded and broken, he got to jump from one relationship to another and carried on with his happy life with the very woman who he claimed to have ruined him, the woman who I couldn’t help but measure myself up to because the man I loved chose her and not me.
What does she have but I don’t? I did not know.
What I knew was that he made me feel like my existence, my love was an inconvenience and I was crazy for even thinking there was something special between us.
And why did it have to happen to me? Why then?
Needless to say, I was in misery.
The thoughts of him wounded me like someone just stabbed me right in the chest as I was torn apart between love and hate for him.
I had to actively tell myself to hate him; otherwise, I would have immediately run to him and never been able to let him go, like a big-time loser.
It was tough back then as all the feelings were so intense that they overwhelmed me and every waking moment of my life to the point of numbness.
It took me a very long time and a lot of conscious effort to finally put things into perspective and figure something out to free myself from him and that past.
I did it because I had to.
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What I realised is that when he left me, my instinct was to blame, to accuse, to victimise, yet I never once took a step back and tried to rationally think what the whole situation actually showed me about him and the state of our relationship.
Instead, I swallowed the pity pill and kept focusing on getting him back for all the wrong reasons.
Jealousy, insecurity, desperation, obsession — you name it. It was anything but love, since I had missed the point of love.