Me Moving On Will Never Mean I’ve Forgiven You

When you first left me, strangely, I had no hopes of being yours again and no hopes of trying to rebuild our relationship.

Don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you – it’s just that you hurt me so badly that I never thought of giving you another chance, despite the fact that I still loved you.

Instead of cracking my brains open about how to win you back over, I put all of my energy into trying to overcome the trauma you caused me and get over the fact that the man I gave my entire heart to was ready to shatter it into pieces without blinking an eye.

I focused on finding a way to stop loving you.

To be honest, deep down, I thought I would never make it.

I thought I would never get rid of this insane mixture of love, hate, nostalgia, and repulsion I felt whenever you crossed my mind.

And frankly, that was practically all the time.

I was convinced that I could never find the strength in myself to forgive you for crushing me.

I was certain that I could never forget everything you did to me and all the pain you caused me.

However, after a while, slowly, I caught myself moving on, without even being aware of it.

I noticed that I was hurting and healing at the same time, which was enormous progress.

With time, step by step, you ceased to exist inside of me. Contrary to all of my expectations, you became part of my painful past.

So, I guess I was wrong. I don’t know if I thought I loved you more than I actually did or if I considered myself emotionally weaker than I actually was, but the fact is that, somehow, I managed to stop loving you.

However, I was definitely right about one thing: I never forgave you and I don’t plan on doing so.

I did move on, but that doesn’t mean I forgot the hell you put me through.

Luckily for me, I’m no longer consumed by resentment and hate.

However, just because I don’t spend every second of my every day wishing for you to drop dead, doesn’t mean I forgave you.

Me getting over you doesn’t mean that I suddenly got amnesia and all the issues and trauma you caused got magically erased.

That’s not to say that I managed to wipe out all the days I spent crying for you, all the sleepless nights I struggled to breathe, and all the moments I wanted to die.

The fact that I stopped loving you doesn’t delete the fact that you changed the essence of my being for good.

It doesn’t annul the fact that you damaged me beyond repair and I can never be the same girl I was before you stormed through my life.

It doesn’t mean I would ever want you back or that I’m okay with all the evil you brought me.

It doesn’t make your misdeeds acceptable nor you any less of a douchebag.

Me moving on doesn’t imply that I want all the best for you or I don’t wish karma gives you what you deserve.

It doesn’t mean that you have my blessing to find your happily ever after and it certainly doesn’t mean I wish you a long, prosperous existence.

You see, me choosing to carry on with my life doesn’t give you amnesty for all of your sins and it doesn’t change the fact that you did me wrong.

It just signifies that I was wise enough to realize that me remaining in one place, while you’re out there living your life as if nothing’s happened, would be the worst thing I could ever do.

So, no, I don’t want you to have a clear conscience.

I don’t want you to think that you’re entitled to a peaceful life, just because I found a way to put mine back together.

Call me a bad person, but I hope that you’ll spend the rest of your days haunted by each one of my tears.

That you’ll never stop regretting everything you made me go through. That you’ll experience all the devastating pain you made me feel.

This might make me look just like you, or even worse, but I hope that you’ll never be able to forgive yourself for treating me the way you did and eventually losing me forever.

I hope that guilt and remorse will follow you wherever you go, as long as you breathe, because it’s the only way justice can be served.

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