Friday, August 31, 2012

Letter To Myself



It’s time to get over it.
You haven’t spoken to or seen him in nine fucking months.
He hasn’t tried to contact you in nine fucking months.
You “hung out” for about two months (not even a whole two months) and fucked him a few times.
IT WAS NOT SPECIAL.
IT WAS NOT UNIQUE.
Not to him, anyways.
What he most likely found unique was the ending when a grown woman broke it off in a voicemail.
You broke it off in a voicemail.
Do you remember what you said?  No?  SERIOUSLY?
Dude.  Let it go.
Stop crying about it.  Stop beating yourself up about it.
Do you really think talking to him now is going to change things?
Do you honestly believe going into the shop and apologizing is going to do anything but humiliate you?
Aren’t you tired of humiliation?
Just let it go, man. What’s done is done and THAT is done as fuck.  There’s no going back. You’re not The Doctor, you don’t have a special police box. You’re just a silly girl that made a mistake (several, actually) and can’t stop obsessing about it.
Stop Facebook stalking.
Stop imagining the next time you’ll see him. You’re never going to see him.  Ever.
Stop scripting fake conversations that will never happen because THEY WILL NEVER HAPPEN.
He was never really into you.
It was all one-sided.
Face it.
Learn from it.
Grow.

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